Chapter 5: 6 of Swords Transition

The world was grey the morning of the funeral. Yema turned her smile to the sky and held out both hands, willing the cleansing showers to fall.

Lorenz opened the window, saying in a soft voice: “We need a little air in here.”

“Didn’t even know it opened.” Indifference flooded his client’s voice. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

The stranger didn’t bother answering. “What’s with all the paper covering the windows?”

“Tradition. When there’s been a death.” Lorenz’s whisper cracked and trailed off. He took a breath, steadying himself. “We keep our windows and glass covered to keep spirits from getting confused or lost.”

“So, this town is used to attacks like the one last night?” Sickly sweet sympathy dripped off the words, “What a way to live.” 

Yema’s skin crawled at the way the Devil poured false pity effortlessly over his disgust. He didn’t have an empathetic cup, yet there he was feigning it, performing compassion. 

The younger boy’s cup of grief just shattered. “Not at all. I can’t remember the last time those gangsters were emboldened enough to come for us directly in our own homes like that.”

“Then why is everyone acting like nothing happened?”