Contractbound

They had finished searching the Bauwens" house and had found the journal containing the information regarding Contractbounds. However, that was of little importance to them because it was more or less the same as what the Police knew. The only important piece of information was the name Pravitatem. Oranje had used divination to find out what it was, and they saw a very obscure image of seven people gathering. Now, they were looking for the person who went to the house before them.

"The guy who sealed the wraith was probably the same person who sent the anonymous tip to us." Rood spoke while looking around, "In which case, that bed sheeter is probably staying at a hotel around here."

Oranje looked at her partner with intrigue, "Is that the best nickname you came up with?"

Rood looked at his partner and smiled proudly; however, it didn"t go well with his rough face and only made him look like a kidnapper trying to lure in children.

"Anyway, there are so many hotels around, how are we supposed to find him? We can"t use my divination to track him after all." Oranje tried to speak normally without mocking his partner"s smile.

"Then we use divination in a round-about way," he said thoughtfully. He then led his partner to a secluded alley. Even though they are the Police, they still needed to hide the existence of Contractbounds from the public.

Oranje followed Rood and once they were in the alley, she asked him, "What question do you think I should ask?"

"Ask your crystal ball to show which hotels have visitors very recently-- I say within a day. It"s not peak tourist season, so there shouldn"t be many."

Oranje felt stupid for not thinking of that idea. She then took out a small crystal ball only a little bigger than the size of her two palms from the briefcase. It was her travel crystal ball because it was easy to carry around. Although the image shown in it would be small as a result, it was better than carrying a giant crystal ball on a mission.

She sat kneelingly on the ground with the crystal ball on her lap. She then slit her palm and smeared her blood around the ball. Once it was covered in blood, she put both hands on it and concentrated on the question she wanted to divine.

"Which hotels got a new customer in the last twenty-four hours?"

After a while, the blood around the ball got sucked into it and slowly formed an image. There were three hotels shown by the crystal ball, and their names were "Welterusten", "Zuideinde Bungalow", and "The Hotel". Oranje was looking intently at the tiny image, making sure that she read the names correctly. The image gradually disappeared into nothingness after that, along with the blood that formed it.

"Did you see the hotel names? Should I use divination to find their locations?" she asked while still sitting with her knees on the ground.

"I did. No need; don"t waste your divination for something trivial. We can just ask around." Rood said casually.

Oranje stood up and cleaned herself. She then put back the crystal ball in the briefcase and said, "If only Groen was here. Going anywhere would be much faster."

"True. He is following another lead right now, however." Rood said matter-of-factly. He walked out of the alley, followed by Oranje, who had to walk faster because she was shorter.

"Do you think that Shroud knows the murderer?"

The two of them asked around and found the location of the three hotels and decided to pay a visit to the closest one first, which was Zuideinde Bungalow. They arrived at the front of the hotel after walking no more than five minutes. The hotel had six floors and the design looked modern. Rood and Oranje entered the hotel and walked up to the female receptionist who was greeting them with a corporate smile. The receptionist saw the logo on their coats as they got closer to her.

"Good morning, officers. How can I help you?"

"We"re here to ask some questions. Has anyone come and booked a room in the last twenty-four hours?" Oranje asked with a friendly tone.

"There are many. Are you looking for any particular person?" the receptionist"s tone was that of a rehea.r.s.ed friendliness.

"What are their names? Did any of them ask about an abandoned house or talk about ghosts?" asked Rood straightforwardly.

The receptionist hesitated for a while, but since she couldn"t question the authority of the Police, she complied. After she finished giving them the names of nine different people, she said, "None of them asked about any house or ghosts."

"Hmm..." Rood was thinking. "Alright. Thank you for your time," he then said and then left the big hotel with Oranje.

Rood and Oranje walked down the street heading to the next closest hotel, which was called "The Hotel". It took them no longer than three minutes to reach the front of the small hotel with only two floors. They entered and were greeted by a teenage receptionist who was smiling clumsily. He quickly put away the crossword puzzle that he had been doing after seeing the guests" coats.

"G-good morning, officers." the receptionist said nervously. He was not used to dealing with the Police.

"Hi there. Relax, you"re not in trouble. We"re only to ask questions." said Oranje warmly.

"O-okay. What questions would officers like to ask?" he said very formally, trying to be polite.

"Tell me the names of the guests who rented a room in the last twenty-four hours." Rood said in a straightforward manner.

"Uhm..." he was thinking hard, "there is only one. His name is Henry Niemann."

"Did he ask about any abandoned houses or ghosts?" Oranje asked warmly, while Rood was observing the receptionist"s expression closely.

The receptionist was thinking hard again, trying to remember it. He then said, "No. He only rented a room and didn"t leave."

"He isn"t lying," Rood nodded at Oranje.

"Alright then. Thank you for your time," Oranje smiled warmly at the teenage receptionist who looked like he was being asked by a teacher but not ready with an answer.

The two officers walked out of the small hotel and headed to the last hotel on their list, Welterusten. It took them almost seven minutes of walking to arrive at the front of the four-story hotel painted in all dark blue. They entered it and in the lobby, a faint lullaby could be heard. There was a male receptionist wearing a pajama who looked sleepy waving at them slowly.

"Good night." he yawned. "Can I help you?"

"We are from the Police," Oranje said with a sunny voice, but the sleepy atmosphere drowned her warmth, "Can you tell me how many people rented rooms in the last twenty-four hours and if they asked about any abandoned houses?"

"Wait a minute..." he said lazily and opened the guest book.

Looking at the receptionist made someone want to go to bed.

"There is only one woman. And no, she didn"t ask about anything weird," he spoke with a low voice.

"What"s her name?" asked Rood with a hoa.r.s.e voice.

"Marieke Odekirk," said the sleepy receptionist lazily.

Rood and Oranje didn"t react for a while. They seemed to be thinking about something, and then they looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

"That"s the name of the second victim"s friend, right? The one who found her." Oranje whispered to her partner.

"Yes. I don"t think it"s a coincidence that she"s here," he whispered back, then turned to the receptionist, "Is she still here?"

"She left last night..." he said, dragging his words.

After thanking the sleepy receptionist, they left the hotel that made them feel drowsy and walked back to their parked motor carriage.

"Our next lead would be Pravitatem and Marieke Odekirk. We"re done here. Let"s go back to central." Rood spoke decisively.

...

It was a fine Thursday morning on Tuinstraat. Graham Hymes was sitting at his small dining table in the kitchen enjoying his breakfast. He had asked his carriage driver to stop by the famous restaurant in Zuideinde called "Oma"s Kitchen" and ordered an apple pie takeaway. He had eaten some slices in the carriage and was surprised by how good it was.

When he first ate it, it was still warm and the aroma of the baked apple and cinnamon wrapped around his nose and gently ma.s.saged it pleasantly. The first bite was the best, as the warm pie filling melted in his mouth. The crunchy crust being crushed between his teeth and the soft cinnamony apple on touching his palate worked in harmony to create an exquisite experience.

The pie slices he was having for breakfast didn"t taste quite the same as when they were fresh but still amazingly good. He had kept the remaining pie slices in the fridge last night and reheated this morning. He had a cup of hot chocolate as accompaniment. It was an instant hot chocolate that came in small packages; not quite as good as café-made ones, but it would suffice.

He took the last bite of his apple pie and sip his hot chocolate slowly. He then spoke in contentment,

"With this, I"m ready for tonight."