25 Don't Stare

The source of the blood never revealed itself, and while Ted did not exactly forget about it, it became just a passing thought when anything related to the red life fluid came up.

He had to pick a suit, or, rather, a meck for the ball.

He liked wearing mecks. It was the best invention in men's fashion since the collar without ruffles came to the knowledge of the general public.

He hired extra cooks, musicians, everything he thought he needed. He let Eknie deal with a lot of the remaining aesthetic stuff, but the manor was already looking pretty great.

He just had to hope that no suprising blood stains would appear from anywhere.

As the time of the event rolled around, he made sure that his friend was going to put on her best green ball gown.

He put on a matching yellow and black meck and greeted his guests.

The music was calming, but elevating, very Sennite and not tropical at all. This was the way it had to be if he expected any sympathy from those blue enough in blood to be able to discard the low-class way of still copying outdated traditions from the north.

Ted enjoyed putting on his little display. He shook every hand – merchants and their wives, nobles, scientists and artists, they all came together to mingle as a part of the most elusive high society. They did not know, though, that this was not for its own sake.

There was a different Society hiding behind the perfect facade, ready to pounce on any prey gullible enough.

The violins danced their dances, the pianist played his melody to support the musical tension that would soon break up in a magnificent collection of different auditive fragments. Ted had only hired the very best. He could not stand being thought of as a cheap man.

"It's…opulent," Count Sreven breathed into his ear.

Ted could smell the musky perfume Count Sreven tended to overuse.

He could smell the perfume of the fair wife as well, but in all fairness, the fairness of the woman was questionable. Her complexion was somehow muddy, and unclear, like she was not eating well.

Ted knew it did not look like he felt only passionless emotions towards Eknie. She was an absolute attention magnet in her ruffles and her tight bodice, but she behaved with perfect submissiveness, never raising her arms too high, keeping all movements subtle and as small as possible, and when Ted did something, she mirrored him, but with a feminine version of whatever he was doing.

Certainly, she was the pinnacle of female intelligence, as devious as a snake, and with such grace in her social behavior that few were able to resist her calculated, effortless charm.

Ted had to be careful because of this. He had to maintain the image of considering marriage with Eknie while keeping other options open. Of course, this made him figuratively throw up in his mouth a little, but it was what it was.

People got married, got comfortable, got fat, got a fake stance that death was nothing to fear, and then they died as forgettable, replaceable little parts in a clockwork that ensured the victory of some who, in turn, would then perish , forgettable in their temporary wealth and grace.

Ted wanted nothing to do with anything concerning that clockwork.

He smiled, he imitated, he was just like them, only better.

"There's been a complication," Eknie muttered to him after returning from the ladies' room.

"Elaborate," Ted said. "What has happened?"

"Someone found a dead dog in the sink. They keep on whispering about a serial killer on the loose. I tried to do damage control as much as I could, but some of the ladyfolk are, justifiably, upset."

Ted's blood froze.

A serial killer, that was technically him, but he was not monstrous enough to kill a dog. If he could catch the culprit, he would beat them into a bloody pulp unfit as an anatomical demonstration of a human being.

He had to get a trail, something to follow, and to his annoyance, he would have to take Doira's hounds. Hungry for attention, the hounds loved Ted, but he could not allow himself to form any attachments to them.

Then a terrible thought crossed his mind.

"It was not…it was not Doira's dog, was it?"

Eknie shook her head. "Thankfully, no, but if you still want to shoot some people, I am willing to help you bury the bodies."

"Shoot? Bury? It's like you don't know me at all. There will be no quick deaths, and no bodies recognizable enough to have to worry about burying anything but a few teeth."

Doira seemed to understand the need to be discreet. He let Ted borrow his bloodhounds.

Ted's heart ached so bad when he saw the faces of the animals, framed by massive ears hanging on each side. He was reminded of a friendship he had lost, and it would have broken him to let the beasts think that he was a kind master with treats and head pats.

Eknie glanced towards the sight of a grown man nearly in tears over a dog that had been dead for years. She looked like she was about to say something.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, he had to get over himself, but he tried so hard to act tough that he had forgotten the gooey place in his heart that was still moved by things like hounds and kittens.

"Don't STARE at me," he growled to his friend.

They were having a so called cigarette break outside the manor.

"Maybe I should do it," Eknie said.

"Why? Do you think I am weak?"

"No. I think a man in the ladies' room will be a social catastrophe. Let me go in and let the boys get a whiff of whoever killed that dog. Then you can go on and I can do my very best with that damage control thing."