The Price of a Failed Barrier

Reagan had been seated on his bed at the inn for only five minutes before a knock sounded at his door and Elisa let herself in, wearing only her beige blouse and pantalettes as her dress had been washed and sat drying on her windowsill.

“I’m exhausted,” she said, flopping down between Reagan and Liam. She kicked off the new shoes Ulick had commissioned for her and sighed.

Reagan gave her an amused look. “I could be mistaken, but I believe your room has one of these too,” he said, pointing at the bed. “You may want to try using it.”

“Not like that,” she said. “More like my brain hurts. Ulick asked so many questions, and I could barely keep things straight.” She looked up at Reagan. “How did you do that, anyway? Make it all sound convincing when you were fabricating it on the spot.”

Reagan shrugged, acutely aware of Liam watching him. “When you’ve had a decade of practice, it starts to come naturally.” He looked down at Elisa’s black leather shoes near the wall.

“Well,” Elisa said after an awkward silence. “How will we go about locating your godfather, if he still lives in Apolde?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? Shouldn’t you be looking for a boarding house?”

“It’ll look suspicious if I appear to be settling into town after you told Ulick we’re traveling cousins.”

Reagan went silent.

“That face,” Liam said, almost poking Reagan’s cheek. “Means he’s frustrated he didn’t think of that.”

“Shut it,” Reagan said, glaring at Liam’s teasing grin. “But she’s right. We should stay here, at least until we find Dietfried. But for now,” he said, standing and walking toward the door. “Get some sleep. We’ll regroup in the morning.” He gave Elisa a pointed look until she sighed and stood. “And don’t forget your shoes.”

“Yes, sir. As you wish,” she said with a mock curtsy.

Reagan responded with an eyeroll as he shut the door behind her. He listened for her door closing across the hall before turning to Liam and asking, “What’s been on your mind? You’ve had this odd look on your face since we got here.”

“You’re one to talk,” Liam said, but when he saw his attempt at humor had failed, he shrugged and said, “There’s something about Ulick, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Reagan’s blood ran cold. “You don’t recognize him, do you?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Liam shook his head and said, “No, he’s far too young. The man who killed me was around my father’s age.” He frowned. “There’s something familiar about that glowing amulet he was wearing…”

“Did you see one like it at the traveling marketplace?” Reagan asked. “You always browsed more than me when we were kids.”

Liam’s frown cleared, and he smiled. “I knew I’d seen it somewhere. Agatha sold some a few years ago, saying they were wildly popular in the capital.” Standing, he ushered Reagan toward the bed. “You should take your own advice, and get some sleep.”

Reagan yawned in compliance and extinguished the oil lamp at his bedside before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

The next day, over a breakfast at the inn, Reagan and Elisa decided to split up and scour the town for information, both from the living and the dead.

“At least I can ask directly about him,” Elisa said. “Ghosts won’t tattle, generally.” She gave Liam a look, making him laugh. “What are you two going to do?” she asked Reagan.

“The only thing I can think of is checking the death registries. He’d lived in Apolde most of his life, so if he died back then, there should be a record of it here.” I hope. He didn’t voice the last part.

Elisa nodded, then she finished eating and left with a, “See you tonight, cousin,” that was loud enough for nearby patrons to hear.

After finishing his own breakfast, Reagan entered the brightly lit lobby and asked the innkeeper for directions around town.

“Town Hall will be in the Southern District, where all the municipal buildings and most of the workshops sit,” the elderly innkeeper said, indicating the region on his faded map of Apolde. “If you want to see what the town has to offer, however, I’d recommend the Northern Quadrant, where all the best restaurants and shops are.”

Reagan thanked him and left the inn, heading west down a small, home-lined street. He only made it two houses down before he caught a glimpse of Liam’s face and asked, “Which way is south?”

“To your left,” Liam said, snickering at Reagan’s scowl.

Reagan grumbled but turned left and headed down an alleyway between two houses until he spotted a larger street going south.

From what he had seen of Apolde the night before, Reagan noted it was a craftsman’s town. Workshops lined the major streets, specializing in everything from furniture carving to cobbling to toymaking. Beside the cobbler who had made new shoes for Elisa, there was a glassblowing atelier.

A group of kids gathered outside to enjoy the heat spilling out of the open doors. They were dressed in thin coats, far too light for the approaching winter. Several of them watched Reagan as he passed, but none spoke to him.

On the other side of the atelier sat a carpenter’s workshop. The smells of oils, coal, and sawdust drifted toward Reagan as he walked down the street.

A few workers stepped out to stretch and enjoy the fresh air. Several gave Reagan a friendly wave, but none called out to him, much to Reagan’s relief. One man walked up to the kids and offered them what looked like hard candy wrapped in wax paper, much to their delight.

“I can see why Dietfried settled here,” Liam said, walking beside Reagan. He watched the kids with a smile on his face. “It seems like a really friendly town.”

So did our village until that night, Reagan thought. He kept it to himself and merely nodded, keeping his head down as he walked to Town Hall.

Apolde’s Town Hall was a single story brick building with only one window in the front. The lobby had enough room for a wide desk and two chairs on either side, one of which was occupied by a young man. He led Reagan through a meeting room large enough to entertain at least half the town then into a windowless archive room where the registries were housed.

Shelves spanned from the floor up to the ceiling. Most were filled with ledgers but a few, down toward the bottom, were lined with boxes.

“Birth certificates are on the right,” the clerk said in a monotone voice. He had messy black hair and a tired look on his pale face. “Death certificates on the left. Most recent for each meet in the middle. Marriage licenses are in those boxes at the bottom.” Without any further instructions, he left, closing the door behind him.

Reagan started on the second shelf left of the center, and as he flipped through the pages, he was surprised to find that one month spanned two ledgers, and most of the causes were listed as: “Death by Schialtag.”

“What is that?” Liam asked.

Reagan shrugged. “If I had to guess, it’s probably the monster that ate Elisa’s shoe.” He continued flipping through the ledger. “And the cause of death for almost everyone in this one.” The ages ranged from small children to the elderly, from each quadrant of town, and at all times of the day.

“And that’s all in the span of a few weeks…” Liam said, trailing off.

The pattern repeated multiple times over several ledgers: every few months, there would be a week of constant deaths, followed by a lull before it would start again.

It must be whenever the barrier fails and the monsters get in… Reagan thought. A chill went down his spine as he considered how close they had been to joining the ledger had Ulick not arrived in time.

“I don’t see Dietfried,” he said once he’d finished scanning the ledger dating back a decade. He left it open on the last page.

“I haven’t seen him in any of them, either,” Liam said.

“So he may still be alive and around here somewhere.” For the first time in days, a smile inched across Reagan’s face.

Liam matched his expression, then looked back down at the ledger. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a trio of names.

Lili, Babette, and Hilbert Meier were all listed as having died in an “accidental fire” three months prior to Liam’s death. The cause was supposedly an oil lamp falling over in the night.

Reagan’s breath hitched, and a chill ran down his spine. “We have to ask Elisa if she spoke to any of the Meier’s today.” He looked up at Liam. “They might’ve been murdered, too.”