A Venire Brushchild Mystery: The House of Poppets

Trouble began as soon as Venire entered the ground floor of the Central Royal Authority. He thought to avoid the scrum: the patrolmen herding together before setting out, the lines of civilians trying to report one problem or another, and chiefly among them, the attention of Director Kestrel perched on the podium overseeing the busiest part of the Authority’s day. Venire counted five steps before the younger man heading the Agency called out. “Venire! My office! Now!” The Director had to shout over the crowd to make himself heard, but his tone was one of unmistakable annoyance. Other agents took note of Venire as he cut through the busy desks crammed into the C.R.A.’s receiving lobby. A brave few waved politely when he passed their tiny spaces. Most pretended to not stare nor care, but Venire felt their curious attention follow him all the way to the Director’s door.

He didn’t fault them. Venire was the single ‘no’ vote against the current Director only eight months ago. Director Kestrel couldn’t punish Venire directly; Venire’s long career meant he had a few, powerful friends on the C.R.A.’s governing board. Venire’s job was safe for the time being. He pressed through the squeaky hinged entrance to the Director’s first floor office. It was just the two of them in the sizable space. Law texts were stacked neatly on the shelves behind the Director. Venire recognized the names of a few he skimmed and he knew they were not just for show. During the Director’s none-to-distant apprenticeship under Venire, the younger man read one or more books a day. In addition, Director Kestrel cut an impressive figure. The man’s handsome face befit a young agent of the Royal Authority, while it was clear he devoted just as much time to his physique as he did his reading. 

“Do I even have to say why I dragged you in here Agent Venire?” Director Kestrel asked. 

“The same as always, I assume. I cited the wrong donor to the C.R.A. and you intend to foist a case no one else wants on me as recompense.”

“Close. Close…” The Director removed a folder from his orderly desktop and presented it to Venire. “You arrested the son of Duke Barlington of Southend. Public intoxication.”

“Did I?” Venire pictured the scene with warm regard. An old friend asked the agent for help removing a group of overdressed hooligans from his tavern. He let most of the rich lads off with a warning, but one decided to test the legitimacy of Venire’s station. Venire only broke a few fingers and dragged him to a local constable by the scruff of his overstuffed coat. “I never made proper introductions. They were making a commotion and I dealt with the situation within the purview of my position.”

“The Duke is paying for a new station in Southend and he sees it differently. He wanted your head, Venire, but I talked him down.” Surely not out of any concern for Venire, and dissuading the Duke wasn’t a favor. It was a jab at Venire’s honor. 

“Ah. How generous. My neck is spared.” The Director prompted him to open the case file.

“The Duke’s favorite cafe has filed a missing persons report. A member of the staff vanished a week ago inside the premises and I want you to find her.”

“A week is a long time. Why was this just filed yesterday then, and why me?”

“Clockwork Cafe is very popular, Venire, and secretive. I trust you’ll follow orders to not pry, and I know you’re too much of a stick in the mud to be distracted by the novelty of a coffeehouse run by Poppets.” That sounded more like a backhanded compliment. As for why they waited to report this to the Authority- have you heard of the House of Poppets?”

Venire knew of poppets: humanoid dollfolk given life through magic and happenstance. The handful he met worked for a circus. Besides a few mentions in the Central Chronicles, Venire was unaware of either the Cafe or the House. “No.”

“The House is a collective of poppets working under their creator. They sought to investigate internally, but found no leads. I’ve included their preliminary work in the file.”

Venire thumbed through pages of rigid, mechanical handwriting. “Poppets can be made?” The circus poppets were toys brought to life via fairy magic or wishes. Neither sources could be relied on to make others, or so the carnies lamented.

Director Kestrel shrugged. “The ones at the House are. It’s why your type of discretion is so necessary for this case. They operate a temporary employment agency also in the property called Carousel, and live in an adjoining property. They’re expecting an Agent soon.”

“I suppose I’ll make my way as soon as possible,” Venire offered. He tucked the file under his arm and turned to leave. The Director’s eyes prodded his spine like a devil’s fork. 

“You’ll avoid making any more trouble for the Agency, I’m sure. I’ve left your travel fare with your apprentice already.” 

Venire escaped the office and slipped behind the row of receiving desks to the back staircase. Better to slide behind a few chairs than fight the crowd, he figured. Working the receiving desks was a duty of new agents. It was supposed to teach them a degree of patience and inform them of the broad work of the Agency. In part, it also spared more senior agents from dealing with the unending barrage of complaints, requests, and the needling public. 

“My son applied weeks ago and hasn’t heard back,” a blue faced demon woman pressed. Her pointed claw tapped the thin wooden desk while her eyes briefly tracked Venire.

“I think my neighbor’s cats are watching me…” sighed a tired looking man around Venire’s age. His face disappeared under his palm.

“Harpies are roosting on my roof. I posted signage and they continue to roost-” an older man with a sizable birthmark over his right eye complained.

Three flights of stairs separated the ground floor, the second, and third. Scuffed and worn by centuries of use, the center of the stairs posed a hazard to anyone careless enough to blindly trust the step below their feet. Venire hung close to the wooden banister and pulled himself up as much as he climbed. The entrance to the second floor was open and abuzz with group meetings. Teams of four or six Agents and their apprentices discussed their plans for assignments around sizable tables. They tackled organized crime: cursed item smuggling rings, unsanctioned cults, and conspiracies against the Royal Authority. Venire hurried past them to the quieter third floor.

Private offices lined snaking hallways. Senior agents, agents whose talents were proven after years of service, worked from comfortable offices handling cases needing their experience or sensitivities. He passed a bespectacled, male secretary coming from Valjoue’s office and Lapland’s apprentice carrying reams of paper stacked over her horned head on Venire’s way to his own office. Situated alone, in a wing without neighbors, Director Kestrel moved Venire into the smallest office space on the third floor. The corner of a corner office was far from either stairwell, with only enough room to fit two desks uncomfortably together, and nowhere near the amount of filing cabinets to keep all of Venire’s paperwork. Venire spotted the open door and the black-and-white ears of his beastfolk apprentice.

“Good morning, Agnes.” Venire offered as he entered. His apprentice filled out forms with a charcoal pen and a light touch.

“Mornin’ Venire.” Her yellow eyes peered up for a brief moment. “I see the Director found you.”

Venire set the case file aside. He needed to gather his equipment: notepad, pens- he scrounged through his top drawers for his own charcoal pens, but to no avail. He left them here last night. “Did someone go through my desk?” His question sounded more exhausted than accusatory. 

“I did, sir. Requisitions said they’d deliver extras when they got them.” She extended out the pen she was using. “I can return it-”

“No. No. I’ll get some on the way.” He grabbed his utility belt from his the back of his chair. His shortsword and scabbard were in their case next to his desk. The blade was a gift, and the scabbard the fourth one since he received the weapon.” What do you know about the House of Poppets, Agnes?”

“They make great coffee. I’ve been to the cafe twice, but it’s a bit out of the way for me. I live in West Gate. Why do you ask?”

“An employee of theirs disappeared on the premises last week and our job is to investigate.” Lastly, he made sure his gear sat where he needed it. An agent’s belt included all sorts of useful tools: doorstops, a bag of marbles, drying powder, and things more commonly associated with investigations like a magnifying glass and a kit for dusting prints.

“A week is a long time. Why didn’t they- no, I could see it.” Agnes the Cat spoke matter-of-factly. “No one knows who their father is even though the staff all talk about him. There’s that whole building behind the Clockwork Cafe that’s off-limits. All the windows have black curtains. It’s very obvious that they don’t want anyone snooping around.” Agnes folded the page in front of her and set it aside. Her paw dabbed her lips before sliding out from her seat. “I’m sure they’ll love to have two C.R.A. agents combing over their property.”

“They are expecting us if that means anything. I’ll take the lead questioning the staff. See what the dynamic between the poppets, the cafe, and their creator is, and if there’s any friction. Could you canvas the spirits around the neighborhood? There’s a good sketch of our missing poppet in the file.”

Venire noted the picture when skimming the folder: a machine perfect recreation of the woman poppet in black and white. A list of details lost in the monochrome picture fit neatly into the margins. Straight hair, red. Glass eyes, green. Last seen in Cafe’s brown smock and black clothing. Included in the bottom right hand corner like a footnote was the poppet woman’s name: Vess Dandry. Agnes wrinkled her nose; she recognized the subject.

“I will, and I’ll ask if they’ve seen her since. Hard to imagine no one saw her leave.” Agnes gathered her own tools: scraps of paper she pinned to the inside of her right sleeve. They were promissory notes from spirits Agnes used to conduct her spellcraft, or at least, that is what Venire understood them to be. His basic education in the different schools of magic ended some thirty years ago, and the uncommon spiritcraft was a footnote in his classes. Her ability to talk to unseen witnesses proved infinitely useful though.

“We will take a Levi. I want to get there before the cafe’s busiest hours start.”

Wooden platforms dotted the two large rivers that divided Central City and their many natural and artificial offshoots. Venire descended a handful of steps onto the platform. A blustery, cool wind followed the river’s course and dotted his cloak with fresh water spray. They were fortunate. The early morning rush into the city center was over, and those looking to go home for lunch would have to wait a bit longer. Grabbing the brim of his flat cap, he got in line behind the well-dressed married couple ahead of him. A man held the hand of his wife and raised his other arm over the water. “Levi! Levi!”

From the dark waters of the Rehsug River, a fin equal to Venire in size, then a great, blue scaled back of a Leviathan breeched the surface. Twice the size of the tallest ogre, and able to span the river’s width in a few, wheeling strokes of their shining arms, the Leviathans of Central City ferried their clientele for a modest fee. Magic kept their vehicles dry as they maneuvered under the surface of the water; the Levi unfolded the boat like a child’s toy and held it next to the dock.

“Watch your step, little ones,” the soft spoken fish woman warned. With an open hand, she aided the woman in the white-and-cherry-red dress into the vessel first. The normal sized woman looked doll-like following the Levi’s finger down to the floor of the boat. The man in scrivener’s robes went second. They must be locals; often tourists were hesitant to take the assistance of a Levi only to end up needing more help being fished from the Rehsug. The Levis wore simple, red or brown vestments that covered their upper bodies. Once the couple settled in the single bench the Levi sank down to her shoulders and pulled them away at the speed of a brisk walk. 

 Agnes lingered atop the staircase. Visible discomfort crossed her whiskered face. 

“Agnes? Are you alright?”

The question spurred her to cautiously follow the handrail onto the platform. She looked ready to spring back up at the slightest provocation. “I dislike deep water,” she started, but then reconsidered her statement. “I dislike fast water.”

“I suppose jumping up and down on the platform wouldn’t put you at ease then,” Venire joked. His apprentice did not appreciate his attempt to downplay her concerns. “It’ll be okay.” Venire extended his are out and called. “Levi!”

This time a grey scaled claw grabbed the platform as a familiar face rose over the agents. “I thought I saw your cape along my shores, Mister Venire…” The Levi leaned close to her customers. A small wave of water splashed their feet and sent Agnes reeling. She beat a retreat to the dry stairs. A wicked red streak running from her left brow down to to her scarcely concealing vest got close to Venire. Her breath smelled of fish and salt “And an unfamiliar one too…. Are you his new apprentice?” 

“Red-Scale, we have Agency business. Can we talk along the way?”

The Levi unfolded her boat like the last one, though she kept her eyes on Agnes. “Certainly, agents…”

Venire gestured for his partner to join him. Agile Agnes bounded from one dry spot to another until she could take Red-Scale’s finger and enter the boat. “Soft paws…”

“Eh? Thank you?”

Venire took his seat beside Agnes and secured his cap once again. Agnes’s claws dug into the wooden seat despite her attempt to mask her unease. Her eyes focused on the floor and her padded cat feet and open toed shoes. 

“I apologize. We will plan ahead-”

Agnes shook her head. “No, no. I can manage.” She exhaled and tried to send her worries away. Her posture did not change nor did she release her claws. “This is nothing.”

Their Levi sank into the water and rested the boat along her cheek. “Are we ready to go agents?” She chuckled dryly to herself. The boat drifted away from the dock as the unseen rope around her waist guided her clients. “Where to…?”

“The Clockwork Cafe,” Venire offered. “It’s official business.”

“South then… I’ve never been but… I’ve heard about it…” The boat picked up speed as Red-Scale’s arms pushed aside the water. Traveling by Levi was faster than any carriage, though they were limited by the waterways and the cost. Their destination alone would cost two or three times what it would be on foot. However, Agent Venire needed to make up for lost time, and the Director’s generous budget would cover the journey’s costs. Of course, he would have to log all of his expenses, see that the proper paperwork was filed, and-

“So… Agent Venire?” Red-Scale’s tired voice carried over the small wake her passage made. “Tell me about your new apprentice…”

“Agent Agnes is an incredible asset to the C.R.A. and me.” Venire spoke no embellishment. His current apprentice was a hard worker, and she put up with his adherence to protocol to the best of her ability. Agnes shielded her face with her olive-green cloak from water spray and embarrassing praise.

“Ah, so you’re no longer… Agent Dead End?”

“Is that what my old apprentices call me?” He already knew his reputation, his nicknames passed around the Central Authority, and the persons holding the metaphorical blades pointed at his back. Agent Dead End was a minor joke compared to the barbs Director Kestrel reserved for their tête-à-têtes. “No, Agnes is my star pupil-”

An elbow jab stopped his effusive praise. “Venire, please.”

Red-Scale’s laughter bubbled ahead and beside their vehicle. “You are in good hands, little one… we Levi owe a great deal… to Mister Venire.”

“Hardly. Hardly.” Venire watched foot bridges overhead pass and the shadows of buildings get smaller as they exited the city center. Their Levi-drawn boat swiftly passed slower vessels loading up tradestuffs on the water. The Rehsug River flowed south and eventually fed into the distant ocean. Traders and sailors would navigate the safer coastline to other nations on the continent. Leviathans also nested up and down the Rehsug banks.

“You stopped the flooding… of our homes…”

“A happy accident of another investigation.”

A water spout struck Venire’s head, and only Venire. He didn’t have a rag, but the inside of his right arm survived mostly unscathed.

“You cad…” Red-Scale’s red eye cast a narrow glance back even as she propelled them forward. “Be honest…”

“I recall certain floodgates being left open to facilitate a kidnapping plot. I closed them and apprehended the suspects. It just so happens I was put onto the situation by Sky-Scale, her sister, because the lower riverplain suffered from unseasonal flooding. It was fortunate coincidence. The kidnappers rode the flood waters past the Levis’ territory to avoid being spotted. “

“I don’t recall that in your case file Venire.” Agnes unpinned a scrap of paper from her vest and directed its energy to her partner. A warm breeze dried his gear, then the scrap of paper smoked and crumpled to ash in her palm.

“This was twenty years ago when I started working on the first floor. My floor supervisor saw fit to remove my name from a few cases when my involvement would have caused problems, for him. I suppose it was like your situation before becoming my apprentice, huh?”

“Twenty years is but a blink of the eye… for us Levis. I remain thankful for Agent Venire’s assistance… Now hold on… I’ll get you to your cafe… in a blink.”

Agnes did not have time to voice her resistance before Red-Scale dove under the Rehsug. Venire gripped the seat below him and hid his hat under his coat. The underwater cable snapped taut as Red-Scale shot forward with monstrous strength and speed. Agnes screamed. Venire wished there was a speed limit on the Levis.

The neighborhood was nothing liked Venire remembered: the troublesome roads with their upturned cobblestones and bricks were flattened neatly, traders peddled wares from proper storefronts instead of the backs of broken carriages and discarded cargo crates, and the folk were well-fed and orderly rather than the barest restrained remnants of humanity. Southend was the last part of Central City to benefit from the Change. The event 80-odd years ago that brought monsters and non-monsters closer together also meant that the man-eating Leviathans that once troubled riverine traffic now contributed to their rapid expansion of goods and services. Southend lagged behind the sudden boom in travel; two centuries of neglect and corruption blanketed Venire’s home. Yet, by his graduation, he heard positive news trickling out from relatives and acquaintances. It heartened him to see his old home if not flourishing, then moving into a new phase of existence.

“Fucking cape.”

A man spit at Venire’s boot though he paused just long enough to avoid another unwanted encounter with body fluids. Others eyed him with suspicion, and a few gestured to their sheathed blades as he passed. Old prejudices haunted Southend, or so Venire thought. It was the homecoming he imagined. The Central Royal Authority was not a perfect organization; it existed somewhere between a public service, a law enforcement group, and a cudgel. Venire believed in the first, Director Kestrel pursued the second, and the Duke and nobles like him saw the C.R.A. as the third. The locals no doubt thought Venire was part of the latter. He seemed to draw the ire of whoever he crossed today. 

The cold reception at the dock lead Venire to reconsider their initial plan; the cafe could wait a little longer. A pair of longshoremen heckled them as they disembarked. They attempted to threaten them and mock their ungraceful exit from the Levi. Red-Scale gave them a taste of the Rehsug River before insinuating they’d be swimming if they bothered her customers. The agents did not linger nor wish to be the cause of a scene.

 First, Venire wanted Agnes to speak with the spirits around Southend. He ran interference and allowed his apprentice to work uninterrupted. He kept a hand on his weapon’s hilt and did his best to exude authority. Sometimes he would light a cigarette, or force a scowl. Agnes canvased the invisible spirits as requested: she knelt down and whispered into a street drain, spoke plainly to empty rooftops, and argued with a pile of trash. Each time she would show them the picture, and each time she would leave dejected. The visible residents of Southend gave the strange pair a wide berth while Agnes did her interviews. 

“I thought that wind spirit would have seen her for sure,” she remarked. With one hand she pinned a new piece of paper to her cloak. “It did offer me a replacement for that spell I used earlier.” She removed a paw-ful of grain from her pocket and spread it under the spirit’s rooftop perch. “The poppets rarely leave the premises. The latest the spirit said was sixty-eight moons ago.”

“Two months? Far longer than Vess has been missing. That is helpful.” Venire extinguished his cigarette. “She’s somewhere on the property, hopefully.”

“Do you have a theory?” Agnes crossed her arms together. “I do.”

“I am uncertain. What do you think?” 

“The cause has to be magical. No one just vanishes into thin air, unless they do, and magic is obviously the cause. Perhaps we are dealing with some sort of creature or magic from the Gate?”

The hairs on his arms jumped on end at the mention of the Gate. “I hope not. I don’t think my sanity could survive another bout with our extra dimensional neighbors so soon.” Too many eyes. Too many voices. 

Undaunted, Agnes brushed her chin with the back of her paw. “They are a lot like spirits, in a way-”

“And so I hope, but I’ll keep your theory in mind. I think we’ll make it before lunch if we leave now.”

Finding the House of Poppets proved a simple matter. Flyers posted any open space proclaimed:

A One of a Kind Dining Experience → This Way! The Clockwork Cafe is Happy to Serve! 

They guided the agents away from Venire old stomping ground to their destination. A dozen people say at outdoor tables enjoying an early lunch with sharply dressed poppets in suits delivering trays and pouring hot drinks into pristine porcelain cups. Strange then, the clientele were not all the wealthy upper crust he imagined, but a mix of class signifiers seated under the Cafe’s forest green awning. One man wore a dockhand’s blue overalls and mud caked galoshes while he daintily picked at a basket of chocolate dipped cookies. A pair of literally fire-haired secretaries kept their drinks warm by stirring their fingers in the liquids. Venire spied a teen reading at the farthest table; his jeweled bracelets and blue rose pressed into his breastpocket indicated a high social caliber. The advertisements weren’t lying. Nowhere in Central City could he see a crosssection of the populace enjoying themselves carefree as they were now.

Inside, he saw others enjoying their early afternoon leisure and more poppets. A quick headcount numbered six servers, a doorwoman letting guests in and out, a pair behind a counter, and five more whose purpose he couldn’t pin down at a glance. Venire guessed there were probably double that number if the poppets took shifts. He waved to the doorwoman. She wore black hair and emerald colored glass eyes. All of the cafe employees wore a matching, soft green like the awning overhead.

“Oh. Agents. Welcome.” The doorwoman bowed and opened the door for them. “Welcome to the Clockwork Cafe.”

“Thank you,” Venire lead, and Agnes did the same as they entered the Cafe proper. Booth seating lined the walls opposite of the counter, and a half dozen tables seated patrons between them. The doorwoman motioned to the counter, and summoned from behind a black curtain stepped a new poppet. Her head pivoted to the Agents and curved her lips into a well practiced smile.

She wore a simple suit and a green tie. Her auburn hair was tied back into a single ponytail. Glasses hung around her neck by a thin beaded strand. “Welcome, guests. I am Robin, the day manager of the Cafe. Could I interest you in a drink or-”

“You asked us here. Perhaps we can discuss this in private,” Venire motioned to the curtain. The manager’s wooden face remained static, but her glass eyes audibly rolled in their sockets. She briefly weighed their suggestion, then lifted an arm to a closed off staircase.

“The back areas are for employees only. We may discuss our business this way.”

Robin took them to a flight of stairs cordoned off with a iron chain. WIth a click she released the chain and the three of them climbed up to an unfinished second floor. From here, Venire could observe the whole Cafe. Unused, dusty tables were stacked on top of each other save one and four unvarnished chairs set around it. Robin picked a chair to stand over. “Sit, please. I will answer your questions.”

Venire sensed no malice from their host and complied. Agnes hesitated. “Might I stand instead? I’m still recovering from the Levi.”

“Of course, Agent Agnes.” Robin sat opposite of Venire and set a clipboard in front of herself. “And you are?”

“I am Agent Venire. Do you know my apprentice?”

“She’s been a guest twice now. Her first order was a saucer of steamed milk along with our signature cookies. She returned two weeks later with our guests Lambda and Laurie and had coffee with a side of steamed milk and the same cookies.”

Judging by Agnes’s step back in shock at Robin’s recall, it was safe to assume the poppet manager was correct. “Do all poppets have perfect recall as you?”

“No, sir. My job is to direct my subordinates and organize information. As such, Father has granted me a larger capacity for memory. I can recall up to 300 days with perfect accuracy, and the wax copies of my memory are available for viewing should it be required.” She jotted down both Venire’s question and her reply onto the sheet. There were probably a notebook’s worth of fresh paper. It piqued Venire’s curiosity.

“Then why take notes for our meeting?” 

“For posterity. This unfortunate incident is a first for the House. I want to be able to share such findings for future problems that we may solve it ourselves.”

Robin’s wooden, articulated hand traced her words precisely and stopped only a breath after she finished talking. It was a perfect transcript of their conversation.

“And do you use shorthand?”

“Shorthand? No sir. Everything must be recorded. Father will want to review our work and I do not wish to leave ambiguity” 

Her unchanging expression proved challenging to read: was she annoyed? Did she find Venire’s probing questions tiresome? He hoped to feel out her managing style and the poppets’ demeanor. He was searching for a reason why Vess might sneak away, but if she was just going to rotely answer his interview there was no game to play. Venire needed a reaction. 

“What if I want to question your Father?”

The charcoal pen in Robin’s hand stiffened at the mention of her creator. “He is unavailable.”

“Forever?”

“Yes.” She did not blink nor break eye contact. “Vess’s disappearance has nothing to do with Father. My assistance should be sufficent-”

“Should be? You requested our help. The House of Poppets invited the Agency here to search for a missing employee. I cannot rule out the involvement of any party on word alone. It goes against my own ethos.”

“Venire, wait.” Agnes bumped the back of his shoulder discreetly. “This is a private conservation between me and my partner. I ask you do not record until we are done.”

“Of course, Agent Agnes.” Robin set the charcoal pen aside and folded her fingers together. Her eyes closed. “I am no longer listening. You have privacy now. Just tap my hand and I will continue our conversation.”

“Venire, I think you’re overthinking this.”

“I don’t follow.” Venire felt compelled to whisper even though Agnes spoke at a ordinary volume. “This is an interrogation.”

“May I try my paw at questioning our host?”

Venire did not grasp what his apprentice intended, but she appeared confident. “Okay. Let’s trade.”

They swapped places, then Agnes tapped Robin’s closed hand. The poppet woman opened her eyes. “Ah. Agent Agnes. You will be asking question now?”

“Yes, but I’m still an apprentice. Pardon my indiscretions.” Agnes passed an extra pen she picked up in town to her partner. “For your shorthand, Venire.”

“I almost forgot.” 

Agnes stood up straight and matched Robin’s posture. “I read part of the file the House submitted to the Agency. My master has a better grasp of the evidence your people recorded. There was something missing from it.”

“I do not recall any glaring omissions. Harris and Lake were sure to record every pertinent detail to Vess’s disappearance. I viewed it prior.”

“There was a lot of useful details, yes, but it lacked perspective. It lacked commentary. When investigating, my master looks for the why of a case. Why do you believe Vess Dandry is missing?”

Robin gave the question a moment of thought before her wooden head rose again. “I do not know. She did not leave a note. She never spoke about leaving.”

“What about problems with customers? How about outside of working at the Cafe?”

“Aside from an issue with a child’s spittle on her smock fourty-three days ago, Vess did not report any issues with customers. She was not permitted to leave the premises the House.”

“Why?” Agnes thumbed at a paper spell on her arm.

“Father wants to protect us. Only those who prove able to handle unstructured environments outside the House can take leave off the premises.”

“So, if Vess wanted to leave, but couldn’t meet that muster, then do you believe she would voice concerns about wanting to go outside the House?”

“But if she wanted to leave, then- but-” Robin fumbled with the answer. “No. She would not. No one saw her leave however.”

“I’m not saying she did. We are in the realm of conjecture and theory Robin; the playground of any investigation. I want to know what you believe the reason for Vess’s disappearance.”

 Venire now understood what his apprentice meant moments ago: Venire was operating under the assumption of uncovering wrongdoing and unraveling a conspiracy, but there was nothing of the sort on the second floor of the Cafe. He leaned too hard into his instincts when the truth was painfully simpler. Robin’s answer was not immediately forthcoming, but it did not feel like she was trying to make one up either. Her weight shifted in her seat, and her thoughts evidenced themselves in the tapping of her wooden nails on the table. Had the poppet investigators once asked why Vess disappeared? No, most likely not based on his reading.

“I do not believe Vess wanted to leave the House. We are like a family and she was my little sister. We both like working in the Cafe and serving our guests. Something happened to her, investigators, and I would very much like her back.” Robin’s stoic demeanor wavered. Melancholy slipped into her flat inflection.

“The whole House has been searched, yes?” Agnes asked.

Robin nodded. “Yes. We were very thorough.”

“And no signs of magic were found?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Agent Agnes. Father is a first-rate sorcerer and he was unable to find anything amiss.”

If Vess wasn’t on the House’s property, and they eliminated outside influences, Venire considered what remained. Venire parsed his thoughts as Agnes quizzed Robin about things amiss in the Cafe. Mice were caught, caged, and left for the local ratcatcher. Leaky pipes under the kitchen sink could soak the tile floor and pose a hazard. The House’s gas supplier was planning to charge more next month due to a shortage. They were painfully ordinary problems for any business in Central City. Nothing stood out as suspicious, but then again, that itself was strange. A missing person who never left the premises, who never intended to leave, and vanished without a trace in a place where Robin recorded everything-

It would have to be when she wasn’t present. “Have you left the House recently Robin?”

“Yes, eight days ago.”

“And did anything strange happen then?”

She shook her head. “I went out to meet with our coffee source. His name is confidential. We discussed deliveries for the next three month, then I came back.”

“And was Vess Dandry present when you returned?”

“I did not see her, but I’m told she returned to her room in the House. Several of my family told me they saw her that night. Poppets do not sleep, but we rest with activities that you could call hobbies. When she did not report to the Cafe the next morning that is when we found her room was empty.”

Venire plotted out the events on his notepad, then traced a line from when Robin left to that night. Given that no one, but House poppets could enter the residences through the Cafe, then something would have had to happen when Robin left. The fewest number of witnesses would be in the Cafe, and-

“How long has this second floor been under construction?” Venire asked.

“A few weeks. We are waiting on carpenters to do the ornamentations.”

“And no one is allowed up here, or-?”

“Guests are not allowed up here, and we have little reason to be here except for privacy.”

They were in the scene of the crime the whole time. Venire glanced around at the floor, the walls, the tables, and the rest of the room. No scratches or signs of struggle on the floor, no debris left behind, nothing immediately jumped out as out of place or- no, the tables were misaligned. Dust was present on several tables below and above where a humanoid would stand, but something blew away the dust here once. It was two pairs of hands. He removed his fingerprinting kit from its satchel.

“Has anyone been up here since Vess’s disappearance?”

“No, Agent Venire. Father only permitted us to be up here.”

“And if someone were to come up here without permission?”

“We would ask them to leave, of course.” Robin considered Venire’s line of questioning and followed along with his thinking. “Do you think my sister was taken from here? We did search the whole Cafe.”

Venire spread glittering silver dust over the table, and then the floor in front of where he stood. It was a recent innovation of the C.R.A. A type of magical poultice able to outline more than the fingerprints only humanoids possessed. Though its contents had changed, Venire still referred to it a fingerprint kit Silver particles shined where two parties once stood: one a pair of palms pressed back against the table surface and an indistinct outline of a mass standing in front of where Vess once stood. Walking away, there was only one pair of shoes.

“I think I figured out what happened to Vess,” he whispered before gesturing for Agnes and Robin to do the same.

“What?” Agnes also whispered.

Venire pointed to the silver outline. “Our suspect caught her off-guard here, she was silenced, and something possessed her form. Judging by the outline on the floor, its nothing good. A Masking Slime, or something along those lines. She didn’t vanish without a trace. A shape-stealer is riding around her body like a parasite.”

“Doesn’t that mean their are two victims then? If she’s the only one missing, then someone down there is also being possessed.”

Venire gestured for Robin to join their conspiratorial huddle. The poppet woman did so without complaint. “Who was the one who reported Vess missing? They are our most logical suspect. The shape-stealer likely attacked them to cover their tracks.”

“I was told Sadie checked the empty room. She’s the hostess and doorwoman for the Cafe.”

Which means the shape-stealer sees everyone coming in and out of the Cafe. Venire’s hand rested on his shortsword. “We need to isolate the thing wearing Sadie. I don’t want civilians at risk when we confront it. Robin, we need a reason to get the customers outside, but keep Sadie in.”

“Keep me in? I don’t think so.”

A heavy tentacle of oozing black fluid struck Venire’s right side and launched him into the pile of tables. They broke and shattered under him along with a pair of lower ribs. A second tendril aimed for Agnes, but she narrowly dodged the strike. She pulled a dozen papers from her cloak and burned them to ash all at once. A torrent of high pressure air erupted from her cloaked arms and blasted Sadie and the viscous black fluid back down to the ground floor. Venire watched his apprentice jump down after their suspect while unconsciousness threaten to overwhelm him. He groaned. At least his rib didn’t pierce his lungs this time. Robin stared down at him.

“Do you need help, Agent Venire?”

A whip-crack echoed through the Cafe, followed by the panicked screams of the patrons. Things were getting out of hand. He clutched his broken body and took the poppet’s hand. Blinding white pain flooded his vision as he forced himself to his feet. A swear died in his throat. He felt like he got run over by a centaur. Robin kept him upright. His left leg took a beating, but he could put some weight on it. Downstairs, poppets swarmed the black mass and fought to pull pieces of their comrade from the body of the monster. Agnes prioritized the door; an unseen spirit used its immense bulk to keep the shape-stealer from escaping.

“That thing’s got your family. We need to keep it here, and get them away from it.”

A server was sent flying as the thing tried to dislodge its assailants, but more poppets joined the fray. The chefs and baristas piled on, then more wait staff. The oozing creature sputtered and fought to resist them. It called out in Sadie’s voice, then another, as it tried to fight free. Agnes’s spirit blocked the way; the sludge splashed and colored the spirit’s hairy forearms the size of horse carriages. All the while, the entire staff of the Cafe tore at the ooze. Venire counted two arms pulled from the creature, then Vess’s head. 

The battle was turning out less like a fight as the creature was whittled down piece by piece. Poppets stabbed and pierced it with kitchen knives. The ooze diminished with each stab. Venire balked briefly at the efficiency at which the House of Poppets overwhelmed their foe.

“Or maybe, I underestimated you all. Things seem to be in hand down there.”

And, without any further word, Venire passed out from two cracked ribs, a minor concussion, and a full body bruising.

644 Views