Et tu, Assiah?
Council
The disembodied voice found Wayne through the curtain of darkness.
"So, you say they've vanished?"
She swallowed harshly, staring intently at the floor, fist held tightly over her heart. "Yes, your graces. They fell off the radar somewhere in Turn."
"I see." A slightly different voice this time. There were ten of them somewhere, she knew, out there in the darkness. The adoni ha'aretz.
"What of the ghoul?"
"He goes by the name of Nails. We believe him to be James Maher of the Red Ops division. Maher... disappeared during an investigation spearheaded by le Chevallier during his work as a grey. We never found a body, and assumed he was dead."
"I see. This 'investigation' was...?"
Wayne tried not to show her discomfort. "Le Chevallier was investigating a series of seemingly disconnected ritual murder/suicides dubbed the Jehova Project. Maher was sent in as part of a backup team to a site believed to hold specific connecting evidence to all the cases. His team mates made it out alive. I'd suggest Maher was the lucky one." What she was trying very hard not to say -- or even think -- was that the only reason she'd sent Nails off with Sam to the Great Dark was that he had suspected a link between the Jehova Project and the madness gripping the Dead. Whatever they'd found out there had bought down the wrath of this very ruling council she was now reporting to.
Something was very, very wrong.
The voices continued their questions. "Did this... Maher and le Chevallier come into contact while Maher was alive?"
"No, your graces. Not that I'm aware of."
"I see. You say le Chevallier was assigned to this 'Jehova Project'; why, then, did you see it fit to send him off to investigate what must have seemed an entierley different matter?"
"His work with the Jehova Project was obviously causing le Chevallier a great deal of stress. At the time, a trip out to the bayou to subdue some hungry dead seemed a small task. Ghouls go rogue all the time; it was supposed to be routine." Which, asides from Sam's suspicions, was almost true.
"Are you aware that the Dark Lord has no knowledge of either a James Maher dying or a 'Nails' ever having been rebirthed?"
Something began ticking at the back of Wayne's brain. "N... no, your graces. I was not." After a while, she added. "How is that possible, if I may be so presumptuous to ask? I though the Dark Lord had complete control over the dead of Assiah?"
"Yes, well. So did we. Unless he lies to us. Do you believe he would?"
The question sounded so innocent. "I... I don't know. Not even the lich lords presume to know the mind of the Dark Lord." A self-made ghoul. Was that even possible?
"Very well, then. It would seem we have ourselves a little mystery, then. Would it not?"
"Yes, your graces. I will assign as many agents as I can spare to investigate further." Of course, Wayne thought, with rogue Jehovas popping up all over the city and the madness-plague in the Great Dark, perhaps she wouldn't have so many to spare after all...
"Very well. Your report has been most... useful. Please keep us informed of your progress."
"Yes, your graces."
"You may go."
Wayne rose unsteadily to her feet, being sure to keep her face downturned as she exited the Temple. She shuddered as she walked down Temple Road, taking a left at Court Street and making a beeline for the head office of the Protectorates. It had come over dismal in the last few hours; a strange silvery fog had crept into the air, and the sky was overcast and bespoke corrupt rains later on. Bad winds blowing over from the ruins of the Dog Plane, Wayne assumed. As if to confirm her suspicion, somewhere off in the distance a dog began to howl. One after the other, more and more joined in, until the air was thick with howls. She shuddered as she remembered the tales her grandmother use to tell, when the Fog of Netzach would roll off the Blood Road and the people would huddle away from the howls of the Great Hunt. That had all stopped generations ago, of course, but on days like this, the tale still had the power to run chills up her spine.
By the time she had reached the doors to the head office, she had broken out into a brisque trot -- cursing her stupidity all the while. The second she put her hand on the door, the sky opened and it was no longer safe to be outside.