The Iron Bells
Page 13
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I'm not certain what wakes me, but one minute I'm sound asleep and the next I'm staring up at the ceiling tiles, a sense of wrongness filling me. I take stock of the room before moving, letting my eyes have first crack at determining what's off. My room looks the same: bedside light is still on, clothes still rumpled on the floor, a freaky grimoire still on my chest. I look over at the clock and see it is just past midnight, so I haven't been asleep for very long.
I turn out the light, convinced that maybe I imagined whatever it was that sent me from sleeping to waking in a nanosecond, when I hear it. I sleep with my window partly open; I like the fresh breeze and often enjoy the sounds of the city at night. Through it I can hear the sounds of scuffling footsteps in an odd cadence and the muted voices of people on the street. It's not loud enough to be the usual drunken stumble home of the area's residents.
I slide out of bed quietly. I make my way over to the loose floorboard beneath the rug in front of the dresser. Auntie has made sure that every room has a hidey-hole for things we'd rather the Inquisition not find in case of a random search. I pull up the plank and stash the book in there with my rosary. Then I creep over to the window and peek out.
The curtains are fairly sheer so I can crouch down and still see out of them. Across the street and to the left of Auntie's, three men have gathered. They look to be with the Inquisition based on the insignia present on the arms of their jackets. But it is the fourth figure with them that makes me draw back in fear.
It probably was a man, once. Now it crouches down at the feet of one of the men, almost like a dog. It's a Sniffer: a human that has been possessed by a special demon that acts as a tracker for its masters. A supernatural bloodhound. Once they get the scent they're searching for, nothing on this earth can call them off.
I look out the window again. The men seem to be arguing. The Sniffer slinks lower, obviously upset by the heated conversation. Its ungainly limbs, unsuited for running on all fours, stiffen, and its head turns to follow a conversation it doesn't understand. I think back to earlier in the evening. I was in a crowd of people, so it shouldn't have been able to pick out my scent, although it might have gotten a faint whiff once the chase began. It depends on what streets I ran through—strong scents can confuse a Sniffer sometimes—and how quickly it had been deployed.
I chew on my bottom lip as I watch the men below. They seem to have reached some kind of agreement. The Sniffer's master gestures and the Sniffer takes off, bounding away on all fours like some awkward doggie hybrid. The three follow at a distance. I risk a better look once they're past, trying to see which way they are headed as they reach the end of the block.
One of the men turns and looks behind him at Auntie's. I pull back quickly, hoping that I was fast enough to avoid being seen, and slide down the wall, breathing like I've just sprinted up ten flights of stairs. I don't why they were out, with a Sniffer no less, but I have a bad feeling it has to do with the events of earlier this evening. I look over to where the book lays hidden beneath the floorboard.
In the morning, I'll get a smudge stick and try to eradicate any lingering scents that might lead them back here. If I do it now, that would just tip off the Sniffer that it was on the right track. And I'll tell Auntie what I just saw so she can warn the other boarders that this could mean an unexpected visit from the Inquisition. Then I close the window and lock it, not that it will be much help against anyone really wanting to get in. I climb back in bed, suddenly chilled, and I pray that I haven't made a huge mistake that will endanger us all.