Outside there was the low hum of passersby and the snort and stamp of horses. The saloon had just opened for business, adding its own din of shouting cowboys and the calls of working girls. The windows had been flung open in a desperate bid for any sort of breeze, but it wasn’t working very well.
Acatl grimaced and straightened up from the corpse he was laying out. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was time for a break. A short one. Miss Alvarez (age 21, stab wound, perpetrator yet unknown) would understand if he at least paused for a drink of water. But the pump was outside, and outside was loud.
Nothing for it. He washed his hands quickly, rolled his sleeves down, and stepped out into the sunset night. The saloon directly across from his funeral parlor was already bustling, gamblers and tradesmen alike spilling in and out of its swinging doors. They looked as though they were having fun. As he watched, a young man on a black gelding trotted up to the hitching post and dismounted in a smooth motion that set his bright orange poncho swirling. Acatl couldn’t help but stare a moment. There was something terribly familiar about that aquiline nose...
“Hey, our little prince is here! Teomitl, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”
Teomitl was huffing at the gambler who’d waved to him—something about needing a drink before work—but Acatl wasn’t listening. Teomitl. Their town wasn’t large, and their mayor made frequent rounds with his wife and children. And his younger brother, who was glancing back over his shoulder in Acatl’s direction with something like surprise on his face.
The gambler smirked as he saw where he was looking. “That’s our coroner. Don’t bother inviting him in; man’s never darkened this doorway in his life. Heard he usedta be a priest—he sure does act like it!”
Acatl flinched. It was true, but that didn’t mean he wanted it bandied about. But Teomitl didn’t look judgemental; instead he turned to Acatl and nodded politely, visibly dismissing the gambler with a sort of inborn arrogance that wasn’t surprising at all. Annoying, but not surprising. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking for you.”
A cold chill ran down his back. Suddenly and irrationally, he wished he was wearing his gun. It was a cheap six-shooter, but it would do for self-defense. “...Why?”
Teomitl’s gaze flicked from side to side before returning to Acatl’s face. His spurs jingled as he stepped forward, the sound almost covering his low voice. “I might have some information for you regarding Miss Alvarez. And the other women.”
Acatl sucked in a sharp breath. Because Miss Alvarez wasn’t the only woman who’d been killed recently, but Teomitl had been in the city for the past month so there was no way he’d have known that, unless... “Did Ceyaxochitl send you?” At Teomitl’s sharp nod, he grimaced. The old woman had gotten him away from the church in El Paso, saying that he could do more good out here. Ever since then, she’d made a habit out of offering her “help” just when he didn’t want it.
Well, there was no stopping it now. He nodded politely and motioned to the pump in the street. “I’ll draw us some water. We can talk inside.”
Obsidian & Blood, Acatl
Outside there was the low hum of passersby and the snort and stamp of horses. The saloon had just opened for business, adding its own din of shouting cowboys and the calls of working girls. The windows had been flung open in a desperate bid for any sort of breeze, but it wasn’t working very well.
Acatl grimaced and straightened up from the corpse he was laying out. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was time for a break. A short one. Miss Alvarez (age 21, stab wound, perpetrator yet unknown) would understand if he at least paused for a drink of water. But the pump was outside, and outside was loud.
Nothing for it. He washed his hands quickly, rolled his sleeves down, and stepped out into the sunset night. The saloon directly across from his funeral parlor was already bustling, gamblers and tradesmen alike spilling in and out of its swinging doors. They looked as though they were having fun. As he watched, a young man on a black gelding trotted up to the hitching post and dismounted in a smooth motion that set his bright orange poncho swirling. Acatl couldn’t help but stare a moment. There was something terribly familiar about that aquiline nose...
“Hey, our little prince is here! Teomitl, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”
Teomitl was huffing at the gambler who’d waved to him—something about needing a drink before work—but Acatl wasn’t listening. Teomitl. Their town wasn’t large, and their mayor made frequent rounds with his wife and children. And his younger brother, who was glancing back over his shoulder in Acatl’s direction with something like surprise on his face.
The gambler smirked as he saw where he was looking. “That’s our coroner. Don’t bother inviting him in; man’s never darkened this doorway in his life. Heard he usedta be a priest—he sure does act like it!”
Acatl flinched. It was true, but that didn’t mean he wanted it bandied about. But Teomitl didn’t look judgemental; instead he turned to Acatl and nodded politely, visibly dismissing the gambler with a sort of inborn arrogance that wasn’t surprising at all. Annoying, but not surprising. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking for you.”
A cold chill ran down his back. Suddenly and irrationally, he wished he was wearing his gun. It was a cheap six-shooter, but it would do for self-defense. “...Why?”
Teomitl’s gaze flicked from side to side before returning to Acatl’s face. His spurs jingled as he stepped forward, the sound almost covering his low voice. “I might have some information for you regarding Miss Alvarez. And the other women.”
Acatl sucked in a sharp breath. Because Miss Alvarez wasn’t the only woman who’d been killed recently, but Teomitl had been in the city for the past month so there was no way he’d have known that, unless... “Did Ceyaxochitl send you?” At Teomitl’s sharp nod, he grimaced. The old woman had gotten him away from the church in El Paso, saying that he could do more good out here. Ever since then, she’d made a habit out of offering her “help” just when he didn’t want it.
Well, there was no stopping it now. He nodded politely and motioned to the pump in the street. “I’ll draw us some water. We can talk inside.”