Once Shudder was no longer moving, Billy-Ray knelt down and searched him for the key. Not in any pocket, which didn't make any sense because Shudder would always have a key like that on his person, so where...?
Billy-Ray tugged down the shirt collar, but it wasn't around his neck. Growing slowly more desperate, he began patting the man down, and then finally - finally - there, on his arm. The outline of what felt like a armband through the sleeve. Billy-Ray tugged the sleeve up and found the key hanging from that armband on a slender chain.
There wasn't anything to identify it as the key to Room 24, but where else would it be for? The cellar? Billy-Ray flipped open his straight razor and cut the armband off, then struggled slowly back to his feet and hobbled over to the stairs.
Still zombies, still attacking. Pleasant, especially, was still busy. It looked like Miss Nuncio was out of the running, but that didn't matter anyway. She was a moron.
With a grin spreading over his face, Billy-Ray dragged himself up the stairs, stopping briefly by his room to pick up the Soul Catcher before he continued on to Room 24.
~~
The cab ride took ten minutes - and it only took that long because of Dublin traffic. Ghastly paid and thanked the driver, who, for some reason, reminded him a lot of Barney Lachlan. It was the sweater, Ghastly decided as he stepped out. They were wearing the same sweater. Did they hand those sweaters out to cab company employees?
The cab had stopped in front of a well-kept two-storey house, which stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the city. Sorcerers in general tended to stay subtle, to try and make mortals hurry on by without a second glance while the insides of their houses and apartments were veritable palaces. Corrival had never gone in for that 'rubbish,' as he so eloquently put it. He liked the small luxuries, especially ever since he'd retired, and so his house was lacking for nothing. It drew looks and murmurs of appreciation from passersby. Ghastly shook his head as he walked up and rang the doorbell.
He hadn't been here in a while. Ghastly made most of Corrival's clothes these days, but Corrival usually dropped by the store - not the other way around. Corrival didn't particularly like unexpected or unwelcome visitors. Ghastly hoped he was an exception.
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Billy-Ray tugged down the shirt collar, but it wasn't around his neck. Growing slowly more desperate, he began patting the man down, and then finally - finally - there, on his arm. The outline of what felt like a armband through the sleeve. Billy-Ray tugged the sleeve up and found the key hanging from that armband on a slender chain.
There wasn't anything to identify it as the key to Room 24, but where else would it be for? The cellar? Billy-Ray flipped open his straight razor and cut the armband off, then struggled slowly back to his feet and hobbled over to the stairs.
Still zombies, still attacking. Pleasant, especially, was still busy. It looked like Miss Nuncio was out of the running, but that didn't matter anyway. She was a moron.
With a grin spreading over his face, Billy-Ray dragged himself up the stairs, stopping briefly by his room to pick up the Soul Catcher before he continued on to Room 24.
~~
The cab ride took ten minutes - and it only took that long because of Dublin traffic. Ghastly paid and thanked the driver, who, for some reason, reminded him a lot of Barney Lachlan. It was the sweater, Ghastly decided as he stepped out. They were wearing the same sweater. Did they hand those sweaters out to cab company employees?
The cab had stopped in front of a well-kept two-storey house, which stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the city. Sorcerers in general tended to stay subtle, to try and make mortals hurry on by without a second glance while the insides of their houses and apartments were veritable palaces. Corrival had never gone in for that 'rubbish,' as he so eloquently put it. He liked the small luxuries, especially ever since he'd retired, and so his house was lacking for nothing. It drew looks and murmurs of appreciation from passersby. Ghastly shook his head as he walked up and rang the doorbell.
He hadn't been here in a while. Ghastly made most of Corrival's clothes these days, but Corrival usually dropped by the store - not the other way around. Corrival didn't particularly like unexpected or unwelcome visitors. Ghastly hoped he was an exception.