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The Tales of Tabitha Stormcroft: Murder in Heljarchen Hall by bonbonaj3 (critique requested)

Screams echoed throughout Heljarchen Hall, making Tabitha spin around, glancing about wildly until they stopped. Her heart beating rapidly, she took soft and slow steps on the inlaid hardwood floor, praying that whatever had caused the screams was long gone. After waiting for what felt like forever and hearing nothing more, she left her room and took the shortcut down to the lobby, using the dusty, disused hidden staircase that she and her brother had kept secret—apparently, it had not yet been discovered, or else it was not thought important. Her heartbeat quickened as she remembered furtively sneaking out with him to play in the woods after dark, until they'd grown older and their imaginations had waned. Such clandestine activities surely would have worried the steward if he'd known, and their mother would have been livid if she'd heard.

Tabitha slipped out of the staircase, ducking through the small door and locking it behind her. She was flummoxed to see a crowd of horrified-looking people standing near a broken window. She joined them, paling when she saw the body. Warm tears spilled from her eyes as she stared at her mother's bloody, broken body, and she averted her eyes, instantly pushing her face into the nearest shirt. Luckily, it wasn't a servant standing next to her, but her brother, who doted on her even more so than her mother did. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and trying—though failing—to hold back tears of his own.

“It'll be alright, Tabby,” he whispered, pensive.

“The audacity of some!” the steward shouted nearby. “It looks like someone let loose a wild beast on her!”

Tabitha looked up, hearing a knock at the door, and pried herself from her brother's arms. She stepped soberly to the massive doors and, without looking through the peephole, opened them to see the person she least expected. There stood Vincent, a good friend of their entire family—although, he was mostly just her and her brother's friend—and a genius in everyone's but his own eyes. She bit her tongue, not knowing what to say, as he glanced around at the activity behind her.

“I get the feeling I came at a bad time,” he said smoothly, catching the wide eyes of all those who stared at him.

“You took the words right out of me,” Tabitha muttered, sounding quite imprudent.

“Shall I come back later,” he asked cordially, “or is there something I can help you with?”

She let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding and answered too quickly, “Idon'tknowifyoucouldbemuchhelpbutyoucouldtryIguessifyoudon'tmind.”

He smirked and stepped past her, pushing through the crowd to see the dead body on the hardwood floor. “Well, murder isn't exactly my forte, but seeing as that it is your mother, Tabitha, and she was a good woman, I'll do my best. First, though, who hasn't but should have already called nine-one-one?”

Tabitha looked down, trying to hide her grin. Ah, Vince, always so eloquent, she thought. The steward stepped forward, and she could tell he was about to chide Vincent.

“Sir, I am sure you are quite intelligent, but this is a murder, and as such, the police shall conduct an investigation, not you.”

Vincent turned to the steward and impassively responded, “The police can investigate all they want, but that won't stop me from doing the same.”

The steward glared at him with malevolence, and Tabitha put on her serious face. “Hey, guys, let's not get into a fight over who's going to solve the crime. That's just stupid. I'm sure the police will have no problem letting Vincent help them. Two heads are better than one, and six are better than five, and twelve are better than eleven, et cetera, et cetera. Don't argue over this.”

Vincent glanced over at her, thankful that she'd solved the problem, but the steward was still seething as he walked away to call the police. Crouching, Vincent surveyed the body as she stood next to him, bouncing on her toes as more tears made salty paths down her cheeks. It wasn't until now that Tabitha actually got a good look at the body. Her throat was torn open, and blood had pooled all about the wound. There were tears in her shirt and chest beneath it, long, disfiguring gashes that had soaked her shirt to the point that there was no telling what color it had originally been. Nearby were scratches in the hardwood floor, making Tabitha's stomach churn as she saw the blood splatters and—wait, were those paw prints? She looked closer and pushed away the thought. They could easily have been the result of someone running on the balls of their feet, or just spots of blood.

She stood, wiping away tears, and heard the sound of sirens coming closer. Glancing back down at Vincent, she asked, “Got anything?”

“This is savage,” he said in a low, creepy voice, making chills run down and up her spine. He stood and followed the blood splatters, walking to the side of them in order not to touch them, then stopped at the broken window, staring out it. He gently fingered the glass, glad that the steward was not watching to see him 'desecrate' the evidence. “No sane human would do this. They would have to be blood-crazed, psychopathic. Or else...”

Tabitha stared at him as he met her eyes. “Or else what?” she asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

He was silent for a long time before he simply passed her by, heading for the door. Her eyes followed him, but he did not speak anymore. Several police cars were now in the long, black granite driveway in front of Heljarchen Hall, as well as a fire truck and ambulance—just in case, of course. The sound of their sirens was almost deafening, and their red and blue lights out-shined the sun.

The next few moments passed by like a dream. Everyone moved away from the body, making room for the police that came in. They put up police tape, surveying the crime scene as several took pictures, doing all that police-y stuff. Tabitha just stood against one of the pillars holding up the balcony, the whole world crashing down on her as she stared at the ground. No matter how often she wiped her eyes, more tears fell, and she felt startlingly weak.

Glancing up, she found Vincent's dark eyes studying her, his hands in the pockets of his black trench coat. She sucked in her gut and looked away, trying to be subtle about it but failing miserably. It seemed like Vincent was constantly watching her, as if gauging her reactions to things, or wondering why she was so weak. Or perhaps he was secretly a killer, waiting for the right time to strike. Maybe he had even killed her mother.

No, such a thing was impossible. He looked as impeccable as ever, without a single scratch on his new coat, no murderous intent in his eyes, not a speck of blood on his shoes. Vincent always looked like that, completely perfect, with dark eyes, dark hair, and dark clothing, but never, it seemed, dark motives. Not that appearances were everything, of course, for Tabitha's mother had always appeared cold and unforgiving, while in truth a very kind, giving woman who was loved by the whole community—there were few people that had even the slightest reason for disliking her, but murder was totally out of the question.

Tabitha was pulled out of her reverie when she realized that Vincent was talking to the police, who were denying him of being part of the investigation. The steward was looking on at a respectful distance, but couldn't hide his smirk. The steward had nothing against Vincent, really, but he did not like how often the dark-haired genius solved crimes that master detectives couldn't. Vincent had been doing this for nearly ten years, since he'd found Tabitha's kidnapper—by following clues that the police didn't even notice—when he was fourteen, and there was no stopping the brilliant young man from helping in any case involving Heljarchen Hall and its residents.

Tabitha sighed, knowing that Vincent would probably still find the killer, even without the help of the police. The way he quietly argued against the cops, disputing their claims that any innocent bystander should stay out of it, made her remember the prodigy he had been in high school, having to be homeschooled because he was so far ahead of his fellow students. She remembered peering over his shoulder while he was working on his math in her room, sitting on the plush red bedspread while he wrote long algebraic equations that hardly made sense to her, and seeing that he was doing Calculus II. He seemed to be amazing at everything. He read lower-level science books for fun, constantly refreshing his memory, and knew enough about genetics, the fossil record, and cellular biology that he could convince any evolutionist to back down from where they stood. He excelled in P.E. despite all the time that he spent reading, could tell you all of the world's history without a single 'um', and knew geography like the back of his hand.

And then, with all that genius, he couldn't write worth a flip. Despite his massive vocabulary, he rarely used it in practical conversation, and couldn't put pen to paper without spilling ink onto the page. He was quiet most of the time, fitting well with his dark appearance, and there were a lot of people that were afraid of him. Tabitha, of course, didn't understand why, and paid no heed to the rumors about him.

Vincent finally, with a sigh, gave up trying to convince the police to let him help. Instead, he took quick strides to Tabitha's side and said, “I'll be going now. The cops obviously don't need me, even though I don't think they'll be able to get this one. So, bye.”

She nodded. “Bye.” Then he slipped away, out of the lobby and into the cold night.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Bundling her thick coat closer, Tabitha walked quickly down the sidewalk toward her meeting place. It was now well after midnight, and her brother would surely chastise her for going out so late, but she had to do this. Vincent had asked for her to come out, alone, at this time, so she would. Others would be suspicious of such a summons, but Tabitha was unafraid, and she'd known Vincent for nineteen years—long enough to know that he was trustworthy and would protect her from anything or anyone that's intention was to hurt her.

She stopped suddenly at the entrance to the parking garage, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She glanced around, but there was nothing to be seen, so she continued on into the concrete structure. Up, up, and up fourteen flights of stairs, and to the edge she drew, then stopped, staring out across the town. The only building in the community taller than the abandoned parking garage was Heljarchen Hall, which seemed quite far from where she stood.

Aware of another presence on the rooftop, she turned to see Vincent standing nearby. There was a faraway look in his eyes as he stared off at the stars above. She leaned against the rail and asked, “So? Why the summons at such a late hour? This about my mom, or what?” Tears pricked my eyes at the thought of her.

Vincent's eyes were, once again, scanning her, searching for something. But what? “I think I know who killed her,” he admitted after a while, looking satisfied.

Tabitha brightened immediately, standing taller as she replied, “Really? That's great! But wait, you probably can't prove it, can you? That always happens.”

He nodded, looking at the ground and shifting on his feet. “Sorry, but I'll have to catch this guy before I can prove he's the killer, and that will not bode well with the police. Can you meet me out here again tomorrow night? I'd prefer not to be alone while I look for this guy.”

She smiled, nodded vigorously, and crossed her arms. “So who is he, anyways? Is he that bad that you don't want to be alone? I won't really be much help if it turns into a fight.”

Vincent turned away and responded, “I have my reasons, but I will not confide them in you until I've already got him. It could endanger you otherwise, and I'll not have that. Don't ask any more questions, Tabitha. Come out tomorrow night at the same time, and I will meet you here as I have tonight. Promise it, Tabitha, that you will not be a second early or a second late!”

She muttered a yes and stalked past him to the stairs. He didn't say anything more, so she assumed that their conversation was over. The night was dark, and she used the back door to get into Heljarchen Hall, then slipped up the hidden stairs to her bedroom, and did her best to sleep her cares away.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Morning came. Tabitha skipped breakfast and spent her morning in the lobby, leaning against a pillar as a forensics team went over the crime scene—the body of her mother had already been taken in for an autopsy. Nearing noon, a knock came at the door, and she was startled to find Vincent there. He motioned for her to remain silent about their meeting the night before, and she nodded. No need to have anyone know about it.

Slipping in, he stepped to the edge of the police tape and surveyed the crime, as if making last minute notes. There were a few policemen nearby, and one asked Vincent what his business was. The look on that cop's face when Vincent told him that he had solved the crime was priceless.

“What are you talking about, sir? Such a thing is absurd!” the fat policeman cried in surprise, taking a bite of his doughnut. Tabitha covered her smirk with a quick cough, to which no one responded.

“Ah, but have you not heard of my investigations? They rarely take longer than 48 hours, and this one was easy. I guessed almost instantly who the murderer is and, after surveying the evidences, have come to the conclusion that it is indeed he who killed the late Mrs. Stormcroft.”

“But who?” chimed in the other cop.

“An old acquaintance of mine,” Vincent responded, his eyes full of bitter hatred at the very thought of the man. “A monster in both appearance and action.”

Tabitha's blood ran chill at the words he spoke and the grave tone in which he spoke them. Her imagination was wild, with horrifying beasts in the mind's eye, and she shuddered at the thought of facing the man who had murdered her mother.

“And where is your evidence, sir?” added another voice, and her heart sank, for it was the steward, who was dutiful in everything that he did and far too professional for her taste.

Vincent smiled, his eyes glaring evilly out from underneath his black hair. “That I can show you without much work.” He turned to the policemen. “You will recall that, on the body, her neck was bruised but also torn open, correct?” They nodded. “And her shirt was torn open by long gashes?” Again, they nodded. Vincent motioned toward the crime scene, pointing particularly to the scratches in the inlaid hardwood floor. “The scratches, you would agree that they appear to have been made by claws?” Their response was two quick 'yeses'. “Well then, you have all the evidences required, but not the man to suspect. Therefore, I will bring him in myself, and you will see this just as I do by tomorrow morning.” Then he, without another word, was gone from the building, leaving them all more perplexed than before he had come.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Tabitha was against ascending the steps to the top of the parking garage, and then again at the railing, staring out, over the community and toward her home. She heard shuffling and turned, expecting to see Vincent, but was instead frightened to find a horrid sight before her. She'd imagined worse, but it was still terrifying to see such a beast.

Now, he wasn't that much different from a human. In fact, he looked mostly human, except that he had furry, animal-like attributes. His feet were like those of a large canine, with bent, blackened claws that were sharp enough to tear you open with, and his hands were similar, but more human-like, and fuzzy, with mean-looking claws. He had a sort-of muzzle, in that his face from his jawbone up to his nose was elongated to look almost like a snout. Yellow fangs dripped with saliva, and his eyes were wild with blood-lust.

“Hello, prey,” he hissed. “Where's your protector, now? Has he run away? Does he fear me? If not, then he should.”

Tabitha quivered with fear, unable to run, for he stood between her and the stairway. She was in no way going to even try climbing down, for he'd be at her immediately, if she didn't fall and break her neck. He smiled evilly, knowing that she had nowhere to go. Terror filled her, and she prayed that she was just dreaming whilst knowing that it was real.

Then he pounced. He flew through the air and she screamed, leaping over the edge before she realized what she was doing. Down she fell, from the top to the bottom, the breath sucked right out of her as the beast stopped at the railing. He looked so deeply angered, his eyes almost red and blood oozing where his fangs sunk into his lips.

Then Tabitha felt comforted as strong arms caught her, though she came within feet of the ground. She looked up, horrified, but Vincent was there, holding her tightly, worry on his usually sarcastic face. She began to speak, but he shushed her and set her gently on her feet beside him. The beast had disappeared from the railing, and it was to her surprise that he leaped from the second story, landing on all four limbs as he hit the ground running. He straightened and turned to the two. Vincent moved Tabitha behind himself, obviously wanting that she should not be harmed.

“Tabitha, stay back,” he said in a commanding voice, “or he'll kill you.” She nodded, knowing that he was completely serious.

The beast grinned malevolently and spoke in his rough voice. “So, what are you doing on my turf, brainy boy?”

Vincent narrowed his eyes. “I've lived here all of my life. For the record, you're on my turf. And you killed someone very important to me.”

“And if I'd killed that girl that you're trying to hide behind your back? What would you do then?”

Vincent was silent, and Tabitha's heart beat rapidly. What's so important about me? she thought, wishing that she understood this all better.

“I would already have killed you, Kuolema.” Her heart caught in her throat as Vincent finally responded. He would have killed because of her death? No, that didn't seem right. She was definitely missing a big piece of this puzzle. (And, more importantly, was that the beast's actual name?)

Kuolema cackled loudly. “Then kill me, boy! Because I'll tear her apart before you can get to me!” That was when the action started.

The beast pounced at Vincent, who leaped back, shoving Tabitha to the side, and threw a punch that connected squarely with Kuolema's jaw. She watched in horror as blood spurted from the monster's nose, and he spat as he landed on his butt. He leaped to his feet and tore at Vincent, who dodged it but ended up on the ground as Kuolema roundhouse kicked him in the back.

The beast practically threw himself upon Vincent, tearing at his back. The dark-haired young man slammed an elbow into his “acquaintance’s” ribcage. Kuolema rolled away, howling in pain, as Vincent leaped up, grasping his bleeding shoulder. Tabitha blinked, unbelieving of what she saw between his fingers. There was blood, but also...

The monster yanked himself up from the ground and clawed at Vincent, who jumped back, shrugging off his torn trench coat as it fell to pieces on the ground. But Tabitha was not paying attention to that. She was staring at the black feather that had fallen from his shoulder.

Kuolema snarled and ran toward Vincent then leaped when he was quite near. Vincent ducked and rolled to the side, which the beast anticipated, as he followed and sunk his teeth into Vincent's arm. There was no cry of pain from him, but he slammed his fist down into the monster's face, causing him to break away.

Then, as Kuolema pounced again at Vincent, Tabitha's mysterious friend leaped into the air and spread two massive black wings, pulling himself back from the beast. She stared, frightened and awed by the sight before her. He easily had a fifteen-foot wingspan, enough to lift himself deftly into the air and away from the threat before him; however, he was not running away.

Vincent was boldly facing off against Kuolema. The two were both strong, their muscles flexing powerfully with every move, but both were injured. Kuolema's face was disfigured by blood and bruises, and the left side of his chest looked like it had partially caved in. Vincent's injuries were even worse, including torn wings, back, and arms. He was losing, and all three knew it.

Not that any of them expected it when he suddenly pushed his wings backward and surged forwards, slamming his feet into Kuolema's gut. The monster doubled over in pain and yowled. Barely heard above his cries was the sound of sirens in the distance. The police had obviously heard the commotion and had come to check it out. Now Vincent stood atop the beast, who was letting out ragged breaths.

“Vincent!” Tabitha cried, rushing forward. He raised an arm for her to stop and closed his eyes. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because Kuolema immediately grasped Vincent's pant-legs and threw him off. Then, to his horror, the monster leaped at Tabitha.

He raked his claws across her chest, and she screamed in pain and desperation. She swatted at him, but her petty attempts were worth nothing. He wrapped his rough, furry hands around her throat, but Vincent grabbed him from behind, trying to yank him away. Vincent grasped at Kuolema's arms, trying to pull him away, but to no avail.

When the sound of a gunshot rang out, Kuolema let go and hit the ground, writhing as blood spilled from a hole in his chest, soaking into his ragged shirt. Vincent caught Tabitha as she collapsed into his arms. She was unconscious and her breathing was ragged, but the slices on her chest were not deep, and the bruises around her neck would probably heal within a few weeks. He swept her into his arms and flapped his wings, distancing himself from the bleeding murderer as policemen rushed upon the scene. They did not see him, but they found traces of blood and, peculiarly, plenty of dark feathers.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Vincent sat with Tabitha leaning against him, her warmth seeping into his cold heart, on the hanging bench outside. It was nearing the end of winter, so the sun was warm enough as that they did not need coats except at night. It had been several weeks since her mother's murder, but just about everything had been wrapped up, and the two of them were both healed well. It hadn't taken much to convince the police of Kuolema's guilt, as they all revered Vincent's genius, but the steward and Tabitha's brother were angry that he had let her come into such close contact with danger. He'd apologized plenty of times, but they were not so kind as to give him mercy.

Meanwhile, a relationship had blossomed between the two, and that was why they then sat with hands entwined on the bench, her head leaning against his shoulder. “You know, Vincent,” she said suddenly, breaking the beautiful silence, “you never explained to me how you figured out Kuolema was the killer. Or why you two are, you know, different.”

He smiled. “It's a simple matter, really. That is, the crime is. Our oddness is a little harder to explain. In layman's terms, we're genetically modified freaks, and I won't try to explain it any farther. The murder, however, was obvious. You see, Kuolema and I were both born from human mothers, and we both already had recombinant DNA at that time, so our mothers didn't particularly like us. His mother, especially, hated how ugly he was, and abandoned him when he was only a year or so old. He has lived on the streets since then, hiding from normal people, and I have only seen him a few times before now. So there is your motive, for his mother was and is the same woman as is yours. I'm sure she regretted it at least some later, but that regret was not enough for him not to murder her, it seems.

“As for how he killed her, it is obvious. The scratches on the floor indicated that he had run from the crime scene, but sneaked in. So he broke the lock, opened the window, and closed it when he was in. Your mother was waiting for him, as she had received an anonymous letter to meet at that time in the lobby. I'm sure she was frightened when she found out that it was him, but revenge was probably not in her mind just yet. I believe that they had a conversation, since there was no sign of her running, according to the location of her death. Then he grew angry and sliced her open as he did you, but she did not scream, and began to choke her. When she lay dead on the floor, he realized that he might be discovered and tore her throat out, hoping that it would be put down as an animal attack. So he ran, scraping the the floor and leaving spots of blood, and broke through the window on his way out. Where he went after that, it is a mystery to me.

“So that, my dear Tabitha, is it. There is nothing else for me to confide in you of this case, unless you are wondering how he knew that we would be meeting that second night. That is, of course, because he is very attentive and would easily have guessed such a thing. I believe he was even listening nearby us the first night, for his wolf DNA surely gave him exceptional hearing.”

Finally, he was silent, and Tabitha curled up closer to him. He ran his fingers through her wavy blonde hair, and she shut her eyes. Her mother was gone now, but the wound was already healing, and would soon be but a scar. It would all be calm soon enough, with Kuolema imprisoned for for life. Yes, everything was back to normal.

Or was it?

The Tales of Tabitha Stormcroft: Murder in Heljarchen Hall (critique requested)

bonbonaj3

Rated moderate just for the description of the murder, and for the fight scene. :) And for those wondering, Kuolema is Finnish for death. Yep, I'm original like that.

This was written for my English class (because we just finished reading "The Hound of the Baskervilles"), but I couldn't give it to my teacher yesterday (when it was due) because my printer was acting up so I just emailed it to her. :) It was supposed to include at least ten of our vocabulary words, so the first few paragraphs are rich in words that are apparently used in common language but I didn't hear before a few months ago. lol

Oh, and a bit of an Easter egg: for those who recognize the name of Tabitha's home, Heljarchen Hall is a plot of land that you can buy in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim if you have the Hearthfires DLC. It is located in the Pale, and you can buy it if you help out the jarl of Dawnstar.

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