Non-SW: The Eleventh Hour (PG-13)

[Alkonium]

Having finished his autopsy, Tim went to speak with Henrietta, to confirm her fears about the cause of death. "Listen, I checked the body, and found massive amounts of-" He stopped himself at the sight of Henrietta unconscious, and Higz dead. "Oh, bloody 'ell." He commented. Having seen plenty of mutilated bodies in his work as a surgeon, he wasn't particularly phased, however he was slightly annoyed at the prospect of performing another autopsy. I might as well wait for her to get up.

[Cyborg Ninja]

Artemis gazed at Shakhmaty as she took the dress off. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

 

Damn... I just had to be your first victim Mr. Killer didn't I!?!?

 

When she spoke again Artemis looked back up at her eyes. He nodded his head and gave a quick look around her entire room.

 

"Yeah I'll try, and be careful." he said as he floated through the door.

 

He went back down to find everyone in the living room. He floated to the middle and tried to get anyone else's attention.

 

"Hello, can anyone hear or see me? Corbin, Tim, Jacob, Ebony, Henrietta... um and anyone else I missed."

Come on, there's got to be at least someone else who can see me.

[Tysyacha]

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Mister Benjamin Edward Faktor's maid, she awoke from her state of unconsciousness fairly quickly. "Doctor Lee!" Henrietta gasped. "It's you! Oh, my poor, weak nerves..." She stood up, practically breaking her neck trying not to look at Higz' body, and cried:

 

"All right. Everyone out of the living room. Out, out, out, out!" She made large shooing motions with her hands. "We're quarantining it for the rest of the evening. I'm not cleaning up this infernal mess now. It would take me hours, and my job is to make sure that you guests, and Mister Faktor, remain calm and comfortable. If you need to go upstairs, there's a plain servant's staircase that you can access via the kitchen. As for the kitchen, there's a door off the front foyer that you see before you ever even come into the living room. No one is going to lay eyes upon...Mister Higz, if I can help it."

 

Once everyone was safely esconced in the foyer, Henrietta said, "Would anyone care to join me in the kitchen for some non-poisoned drinks? I know that I myself certainly need one. I have wine, brandy, cognac, port..."

 

She suddenly noticed that a few people were missing. "Where are the foreign girl and the chess player, and the officer?" she asked. "I do hope they didn't gut Mr. Higz."

[Litofsky]

The piano, located in the foyer, was dusty, decades of neglect reflecting harshly upon its beautiful surface. Jacob Reynolds ran his hand across the pearly keys, wiping away layers of grime. Playing had always calmed his nerves, and he had the perfect song in mind.

 

It was a long few minutes before the keyboard had been cleared to his liking, and a few more before Mr. Reynolds had remembered the keys, having already drawn the attention of several of his fellow guests. Anything to calm the nerves was appreciated, and Liszt's Un Sospiro was a welcome break from watching the corners for a murderer.

 

As the song played itself via Reynold's hands, he heard a soft whisper above the music.

 

'Hello, can anyone hear me?'

 

It was the voice of Artemis Black was undoubtedly asking. Reynolds responded in a whisper. "Hearing is different from sight, Mr. Black. I wouldn't expect many- if any!- to respond."

[Alkonium]

"Explicitly saying that they're not poisoned might make people more suspiscious, but I'll have some brandy. I don't think they're the killers, I saw them on my way up. The chess player was covered in her own vomit, and the foreign girl was with her. And I have my own alibi; I was busy performing the autopsy on Mister Black. Check the wine cellar if you don't believe me. You, however, do not. I found massive amounts of rat poison in his stomach, far more that what's needed to eliminate a rat infestation, and you could have simply faked unconsciousness at the sight of Higz to keep me from suspecting you." Tim explained, accusing Henrietta, but hoping no to upset her too badly.

[Cyborg Ninja]

Artemis Black turned his head around and looked over At Jacob Reynolds. Looks like Shakhmaty wasn't the only one who was able to hear him. Artemis floated over to Jacob but not before giving another look back over at Higz's.

 

"Its good to know someone else can hear me. I've been talking with Shakhmaty and I'm positive whoever killed Higz and me is planning on killing someone else at exactly 10 tonight. I'd suggest not being alone at that time."

[Tysyacha]

((BTW, it was Shakhmaty who puked, not Ebony. That reminds me...))

 

Out of time.

 

Your move.

 

Overclocked.

 

That was it. She had been afraid she was going to be penalized under a time forfeit, as she had already been a little bit "overclocked". In the steaming bathwater, Shakhmaty found herself unable to do anything, not even to cleanse herself of the foulness that had covered her so recently. It was almost as if she were half-dead, half-alive, and the only thing to do was...

 

Sleep. She was sure she'd been asleep in the tub, dreaming of that ill-fated match at the Maine Chess Finals. It was why she'd done what she'd done--"castled" when Lucretia Claiborne had put her into check. Cheated.

 

She thought she heard the door to her room open, but then again, the maze of conflicting sights and sounds overwhelmed her to the point of exhaustion.

 

When she awoke, or at least became more aware of her surroundings than she had been, Shakhmaty realized that her inner thighs were becoming saturated with soap via a fully-lathered washcloth. A figure was in front of her, kneeling by the tub and scrubbing her down. Olive skin, wet and soapy hands..."Ebony?" she said weakly. Yes. Shakhmaty heard her: Shh. Relax.

 

Without knowing exactly what she was doing, the chess player pulled her close for a kiss. Ebony, startled, continued washing the half-conscious lady, but she did not resist the pull of the woman she'd wanted from the start.

 

Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare? None of this makes any sense...

 

...and yet, that's why I trust it. Hopefully, I'll be able to go downstairs...

[Litofsky]

The piece was finished, and the small audience begged for an encore. Beethoven's Fifth Symphony might not have been the best choice, but it was one of the select few pieces that Reynolds had memorized to the point that he could let him mind wander.

 

Reynold's whisper was barely audible. "Thank you, Mr. Black. My good man, do you have any other information that could help us decipher this mystery?"

 

The ghost whispered slightly, recalling some useful piece of information. Mr. Reynolds smiled slightly as the corner pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

[Tysyacha]

((Um, could you please take out that last part? I'm not quite ready yet! *LOL*

 

EDIT: Threadmaster says it's not 10:00 yet. It should be about 8:15 now.))

[Litofsky]

((Done and done.))

[Tysyacha]

In the kitchen, Henrietta sighed heavily. Surveying her guests, she decided to associate them with the color of their rooms upstairs on the second floor. She had always been terrible with names, and one of the ways that she remembered which houseguest was which, if there were many at the mansion, was to connect them with the color of their bedrooms. It had been her original idea to paint them all sorts of vibrant and vivid colors, to the great amusement of Mister Faktor. He himself had been an avid admirer of lush and dark decor, and so Henrietta had convinced him that as long as the colors stayed in the guest bedrooms, they could stay. She laughed a little.

 

Seated around the table, there were (Blue) Doctor Lee, with his glass of brandy, (Violet) Corbin Starside, with his glass of port wine, and (Emerald) Helmut Kohler, who stood up against the kitchen wall not quite believing what had just happened. Upstairs, on the second floor, (Plum) Shakhmaty Killian and (Apricot) Ebony Burdock were doing God knew what. Perhaps one or the other, or both, had killed Mister Higz and/or Artemis Black? Certainly not.

 

"It's time I told you the honest truth about Mister Faktor, or at least what you have already discovered so far. His name is indeed Tad, or Thaddeus. He was not always wealthy. In fact, he was born to two hard-working lower-class people. His father was a slag shoveler at the Icecliff Steel Foundry, and his mother slaved away at the textile mills in a nearby garment factory. From the time he was a small child, he worked at the Foundry to help support his family. Poor Tad barely knew how to read and write before he was...drafted into the world of--work." Henrietta practically spat out the word. "Hard work."

 

"The owner of the Foundry then, one Hiram Coombs, was the most famous man in Icecliff. He hosted several lavish parties per year, including one on New Year's Eve. There was one year..." She paused for a moment. "Hiram hired Thaddeus to serve as footman, waiting upon his guests and cleaning their boots and serving them food and drinks. However, that party was an ill-fated one. Six guests came to the celebration, and not one of them emerged from this mansion alive on January second of that year. They were all killed. Coombs was immediately placed under suspicion, and arrested, but he paid the best lawyer in all of Maine to defend him. Oddly, he was acquitted. When Hiram died, surprisingly, his fortune was inherited by poor Mister Tad!"

 

She blinked her eyes. "Then he became Faktor. Not one of his fingerprints was found on any of the bodies, lest you think he's the one who killed those six people. I don't know how Tad convinced Hiram to let him inherit the Foundry and the fortune, but something happened that night. Not even I know all the details of how my master acquired it, but he's not a killer. He's not a blackmailer, either, although he certainly could have blackmailed Coombs. Something happened at that New Year's Eve party, but what?"

 

Henrietta addressed her guests in the kitchen and the foyer. "Questions?"

[Litofsky]

Rising from the piano, Mr. Reynolds pondered the information for a moment before responding. "Just one, ma'am. What's worth the lives of two people worth? What secret is this house hiding?"

[CommanderQ]

((Hey Tysy, it's Wolfgang, not Helmut, still sounds pretty awesome though:D))

 

 

Wolfgang stood next to the scene of the killing for awhile. He'd seen much worse before, but something about this one seemed different, and it occupied his mind, temporarily knocking the bank meeting from his mind.

 

He shook his head and left the area walking down the expansive halls. He stopped halfway down, and suddenly came up with an idea. He went to the side of the hall and shut off the lights, crouching low. He wanted to wait and see who would come or what would happen. It seemed odd and superstitious, but was worth a try.

[Tysyacha]

((Sorry! By the way, I changed a ghost's name in the newspaper article we found.))

 

Henrietta poured herself a glass of wine and downed it in one long gulp.

 

"If you must know the truth," she said, "the ghosts of the six people that were murdered--correction, that I believe Hiram Coombs himself murdered and was acquitted for--are trapped here. The New Year's Eve party of which I speak happened in 1867, two years after the end of the Civil War. Foul business, that was, but an even fouler business was the guest list of Mr. Coombs. I was not his servant back then; truly, I was the lady's maid of one Helen Taft, who had been invited to the festivities and subsequently killed. While the party was going on, I, who had not been invited, was staying home and washing Helen's underthings. In retrospect, I am very glad of that."

 

She poured herself another glass. The wine was especially tasty tonight...

 

"The people that Coombs invited were on his 'special list'--his list of cold-blooded assassinations, I'd venture to say. All of them had a connection to him that was less than cordial. My own mistress at the time, Helen Taft, had once been Coombs' lover. He said he wanted to attempt a reconciliation with her, and the poor fool! She believed him." Henrietta wiped away a tear. "As for the others, there were Donald Corbin, Miriam Coombs, Wesley Chandler, Madame Sudarinya, and Stanley Rives. I'll make all their long stories short.

 

"Donald Corbin was a member of the board of trustees of the Icecliff Steel Foundry who was next in line, after Coombs, to lead the operation of it. He despised Hiram, whom he thought was a blowhard, and was always thinking of ways to plot to overthrow him. Rumor had it he was into the occult.

 

"Miriam Coombs was Hiram's older sister, an old maid like myself. She was insanely jealous of her brother, and he said he'd invited her out of charity. Miriam was well aware of her status as a spinster, which was a low one. Being asked to her brother's party, she thought, was an honor and a curse. If Hiram died, Miriam would inherit everything from her parents' estate.

 

"Wesley Chandler? He was a rival for the running of the steel mill, being one of the greatest foremen that Hiram had ever had--even better than one Cornelius Lee. However, Hiram had thrown him over, and Chandler wanted revenge. He figured he'd get it at the party by stealing Helen Taft's heart.

 

"Madame Sudarinya? The poor, innocent fraud! All she had done was drawn the Devil card out of her silly Tarot deck and given it to Mister Coombs! She said that his character was primarily influenced by the presence represented on the card. For that, she was drowned in the bathtub--in tepid water!

 

"As for Stanley Rives, he was the principal investor of the Foundry. He did not like the way Coombs was running it, ignoring safety violations and the like. Rives swore that he'd have Coombs arrested for gross negligence, if not murder. The two men argued at the party, and Mister Rives ended up dead.

 

"Those are the ghosts of this house, and they're trapped here. I suspect that one of them is the leader of all, and it's not Hiram. I have never...sensed that foul old wretch within these walls. Old Coombs is right where he belongs. As for the poor souls he murdered--not even the Catholic priests can get them out!" She suddenly shuddered. "Is one of them connected to poor Faktor?!"

 

All of a sudden, the lights went out again. "Good gracious!" Henrietta shrieked.

[Litofsky]

Mr. Reynolds' hand jumped to his pistol, finding comfort in its grip. It took a moment for everyone's eyes to adjust to the dark, and another minute after that for Henrietta to find a candlestick and match. The candlelight depressed everyone's features- or, perhaps, the story of ghosts had done that?- and cast an eerie glow about the room.

 

For but a moment, Jacob heard- or thought he heard, at any rate- the voices of those departed physically, but not spiritually.

 

'Run, while you still can.'

 

'God have mercy on my soul!'

 

Above all, however, was the piercing shrill of a woman long gone. 'Save us!'

[Tysyacha]

Henrietta, luckily, found another candlestick in one of the splintery kitchen drawers. She lit it and placed it on the table for the benefit of her guests. Holding the other one in her quivering hand, she announced to all of them:

 

"I'm going out into the hallway. I know I have been short and brusque with many of you, but for the love of God, please stay where you are. I suspect that whoever turned the lights out has something to hide--or, wants to hide himself or herself while throwing the rest of the house into confusion and darkness. If I do not return, may God have mercy on my soul, and upon all the rest of you. Perhaps the one who turned the lights out has something to do with the death of Mr. Higz, and maybe not. I can only hope not, surely."

 

Taking tiny, mincing steps, Mister Faktor's scared maid searched the halls.

 

*************************************

 

Shakhmaty, in the warm, wet darkness that suddenly seemed to have enveloped the whole house, found slippery comfort in the arms of Ebony. The other girl seemed to have wanted a bath as well, and it wasn't long before the chess player found herself returning the lathery and compassionate favor that the younger woman had bestowed upon her. She wept with joy.

 

"I've never met anyone like you," she said softly, letting her tears flow freely. "Mister Black is dead, and now Mister Higz, and you...You took time to tend to me after I'd vomited, and not one of the other guests would have done the same." She paused. "Well, except perhaps for Doctor Lee and Jacob Reynolds, but Corbin? He's barely said two words the entire night, and I hear there's a rogue banker in the house. What on Earth is he doing here, if he hasn't come for the party and the game?" She felt Ebony's lips silence her, and the washcloth as well. Perhaps blessings came in the midst of damnation.

 

After they were both dried off and clad in robes, fumbling as they did for some sort of garment to cover themselves, Ebony brought the gas lantern from the bedroom part of the Plum Room. She dressed in the evening gown that she had been wearing before, and she helped Shakhmaty stay her corset in a white dress that had been left for her in the wardrobe. Lovely!

 

"We'd better go downstairs another way, via the kitchen," Shakhmaty said.

[CommanderQ]

Wolfgang saw someone come from the light room at the end of the hallway, and he immediatley switched on the lights, slipping out his commando knife.

 

It was the Maid...

 

The Bloody Maid....shoot.

 

He slipped the knife back up his sleeve and took a few steps forward.

 

"I'm sorry, I was just testing something.....how many murders have you had this night?"

[Tysyacha]

"Two," replied Henrietta sternly, absolutely sure that she had seen a flash of silver--the flash of a knifeblade--right in front of her eyes before the banker turned the lights back on. "And it might be three if you don't watch your step. I am not a murderer, but if you intend to do Mister Faktor any harm, I am not above brandishing the same type of weapon you have seemed to in his defense. I spoke with him. He is in pain. He does not wish to see anyone right now, including the guests at his New Year's Eve celebration. I think I've provided you with shelter long enough. I'll call you a carriage right now, sir."

 

One thing Henrietta knew as surely as she knew she was a Catholic: this man could not be trusted. He may not have been a murderer, but she knew if someone had something to hide, and this banker sure did.

[Alkonium]

"Ghosts? I doubt that." Tim retorted. "More likely, one of us thinks they can win the money by default by killing the rest of us, or one of those guests of Coombs' isn't as dead as ... the killer hoped, and wants revenge." He then suggested. A man of science, he virtually never trusted the supernatural explanation.

[Master_Archon]

"We'd better go downstairs another way, via the kitchen," Shakhmaty said.

 

Ebony looked over at the older woman as they exited the Plum Room, her once lance-like eyes seeming dull and faded, and the young girl looked slightly haggard and worn. "No, I must excuse myself now, I must attend to my room now, I'll meet you shortly though," Ebony said, with a soft smile that didn't have her usual cheer or pseudo-innocence behind it.

 

The girl turned, leaving her new, and now only, friend behind, and walked towards her room, which wasn't far; entering she closed her doors behind her, and barred them. With a weary sigh she proceeded to sit on her bed, and stared solemnly at her thin fragile hands, and before long the girl was weeping bitter tears for the death of her long time friend and caretaker, her Majordomo, Origen K.G. "Higz". As much comfort as she had gained in the company of Selene, it wasn't quite enough to stop her from missing him, and crying over his death. She clenched her hands into fists and squeezed with all her might, ignoring the searing pain as her sharp fingernails dug into her palms, causing blood to flow freely; tears mingled with said blood as they dropped onto her hands.

 

Ebony opened her tear filled eyes, drunkenly she looked about, and through her hazy vision she saw her art supplies, and with a quick jerk she grabbed a canvas that was on the ground. With anger-filled movements she wiped her hands across the canvas, not stopping until she wasn't bleeding anymore. The girl got up, and debarred the door, proceeding down the hall she entered the Grey Room which Higz had been staying in, the girl placing the bloody canvas on the room's dresser, leaving it there. Shani stared over at the single small suitcase which Higz had for himself, the rest of the luggage that he'd brought being her own, she shook her head as she recalled the old man's pride in being meek about things, not that there was much meekness in pride that is. The girl gathered up her late friend's suitcase and carried it into her room, opening it up she removed a kerchief and smelled it, letting Higz' scent fill her nose. She would dearly miss him. The girl rummaged a bit more, finding a pocket watch that she recognized quite well, staring at it almost in a trance; she attached the chain to a loose garment, and placed the watch in a tiny pocket she had on her gown - The reason for a pocket being on her gown was due to the fact that she was an artist, and often needed a place to carry pencils and the like, the she so did hate carrying around purses, so she had pockets tailored into her clothes.

 

Ebony closed the suitcase and exited the room, realizing that Selene was probably wondering what was going on, and she didn't want to worry her, no, not after she'd witnessed two deaths so recently that is.

 

Shani quickly made her way downstairs via the kitchen stairs, just like Selene had mentioned, the young woman looking about for her friend. Finally spotting her she moved up behind her and prodded her in the side lightly, like before, but without the same playfulness that she'd shown last time.

 

"You sure don't move very fast," the girl said, trying to sound teasing, but failing grandly.

[Godric Volturi]

Corbin looked around and pulled the key out of his sleeve that he found in the attic. It was very oddly shaped, but who knew. Perhaps it was the key to the final part of the scavanger hunt, but the scavanger hunt wasn't what was interesting Corbin, no... what was interesting Corbin was that there was a murderer among their presence. Only one person had access to the rat poison, or so he knew of, and that was the maid. Perhaps that doctor had a thing of rat poison... that would make sense.

[Tysyacha]

Shakhmaty giggled, but then froze. "That's because...I see a ghost behind you." She saw Ebony whirl around, but she laid a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry. You have nothing to fear from this one." Tears sprang to her blue eyes as she saw who it was. It was Higz, desperately trying to hug his lovely ward but failing to completely realize that he was--ethereal. She supposed that sometimes ghosts had a hard time "giving up the ghost", especially when they had been so suddenly and gruesomely murdered. As for Higz, his transparent form, failing to reach Ebony, turned to Shakhmaty.

 

"Close your eyes," she said to Ebony. "Try and feel his hug." She listened intently. "Higz says that he loves you more than if you were a flesh-and-blood member of his family. He--He'll try and protect you as long as you're in this house. He also says...look in your pocket?" The chess player was puzzled. Sure enough, in the pocket of Ebony's dress there was something sticking out. It looked like a playing card, crumpled and worn with age.

[Cyborg Ninja]

After finishing his coversation with Reynolds, Artemis decided it would be a good time to report back to Shakhmaty. He found her talking to Ebony about someone. As he looked over he saw the ghost of Higz trying to hug Ebony. He floated on over and laughed.

 

"I'm right there with you buddy," Artemis said as he put his ghostly arm around Higz.

 

He was so glad to have a ghost friend that he almost forgot about Reynolds.

 

"Shakhmaty there's... Wow, that's a nice dress, why did I have to be the first one to go!?!?! Oh yeah, Reynolds can hear me too. I'm not sure if he can see me but I at least got to warn him about 10. That reminds me, Ebony we haven't really met yet but don't be alone at 10 trust me."

[Tysyacha]

Shakhmaty gingerly removed the crumpled card from the pocket of Ebony's dress. "It's a Tarot card," she said, "like the ones I have in my deck, but a hell of a lot older. Speaking of Hell...oh, dear. The Devil. Not good."

 

She flipped the card over, being careful to hide it from the eyes of the other guests nearby. Reading what it said caused chills to crawl up her spine. If it was true...There could only be one source of the kind of ultimate power that this "D.C." character was referring to, and it lay right on the front of the card.

 

Of course. Whom could she trust? She had already promised Ebony her sweet devotion--and five million dollars--if she happened to win Benjamin E. Faktor's "game" and inherit his fortune. However, Ebony really couldn't see or hear ghosts, like she could. That meant Shakhmaty needed a third party, and besides, if either she or Ebony were murdered, then all was lost. However, who was the one guest in this entire mansion that didn't care only about money? More than that, who would be willing to protect them both if needed?

 

It was Helen Taft, or rather the ghost of Helen Taft, who had the answer:

 

The green man. The naval officer with a mind and a past of his own.

 

Shakhmaty couldn't believe it. Jacob Reynolds? He sees ghosts?

 

Aye. Take the word of Icecliff's only true clairvoyant, herself a specter!

 

Out loud, she only said, "Ebony? Mister Reynolds? Would you care to join me for a bit of chess in the Game Room?" Indeed...the pieces are moving.

[Litofsky]

Mr. Reynolds smiled peacefully, happy to have yet another distraction, and quickly agreed to the request. The trio- Ebony had joined them, lest she be left alone at ten o'clock!- proceeded to the dreary room with a single candlestick, illuminating the the cobwebs and pieces alike with a fiery glow.

 

With the pieces reset, the two began, pawns advancing in a suicidal fury to protect their lords and land. Of course, in their rashness, the pawns had opened up the way for their nobles to be slaughtered, and the blood was shed in waves.

 

The pawns had formed lines of 'teeth,' initiating a cold war that could only be thawed by exsanguination. Reynolds took the burden of the first strike, launching a war of aggression against his foe.

 

The bloodbath ensued until the pawns had been nearly depleted. The nobles rushed across the fields in diagonals and awkward 'L's until naught but monarchs remained.

 

Both players studied the field, hoping to find some distinct advantage over the other in the positions of their pieces. Neither could discern a suitable move. "Stalemate, ma'am?"

 

Shakhmaty smiled in return. "Agreed."

 

The grandfather clock chimed nine times, one for each hour, one for each death that had taken place in the house. Each occupant of the Game Room shuddered uncontrollably, knowing that in sixty minutes, the clock would chime ten times.