<em>But Solomon Kane must have been loved</em>; Lucas wanted to say to her when she talked quietly of the man, wishing to somehow cheer the woman up in a way.<em>After all, you are here are you not?</em><br/><br/>But he kept that to himself, as he took the box out of the drawer. He peeked inside and saw the cross covered in felt. He was curious to see if it was made of iron like his but knew better not to go against her instruction and just went back to her.<br/><br/>He held the box in his hand, looking at her as she chanted some sort of spell. It must be a tracking spell, he thought. To trace the clerical collar… the one that the… the damnable witch had stolen for a sick rendition of a prize.<br/><br/>He felt his bias come back, hissing poisoned words in his ears how he shouldn’t trust her. For all he know, she could have helped-<br/><br/>No. Father Frollo would never forgive him for how he was thinking right now.<br/><br/>“There was this time I stole from a bakery,” Lucas said quietly to her, when she had complimented Father Frollo’s character. “The baker caught me and dragged me back to the church where Father Frollo was tending to Mass. He ordered Father Frollo to hit me right there and then. In front of everyone to make sure I learned my behaviour.”<br/><br/>He smiled, some tears in his eyes, while he continued to speak. “You know what Father Frollo did? He told the man to hit him instead, for he failed a parent and a person spreading the message of the Lord. I can never forget that… he looked so sincere and honest about his words. He was willing to be hurt for my sake. And I couldn’t protect him, at all.”<br/><br/>“Oh, I’m sorry, I get like this at times,” Lucas sighed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “May I ask what on earth this cross is? Or whom it belongs to? Father Frollo never mentioned another cross before.”<br/><br/><strong>New York </strong><br/><br/>Caroline Richardson was a smart woman. She did not make a deal with The Man Who Walked in the Dusk for nothing, after all. So when she needed to clean her own messes, she cleaned them up and made sure to not leave a single spot that traced back to her.<br/><br/>She first had one of the street urchins dump the man’s body into the river, his heart stuffed back carelessly inside the corpse. Well, the majority of his heart in any case. She had, as she always done after she had killed a person, cut a piece of their body out and put it in a jar of preservatives to keep for her collection.<br/><br/>The chosen person was one of the frailer ones. The ones who would most likely not survive another ceremony and was thus useless in her eyes, since they could not due the requirement she picked them up in the first place. If the child was caught, they’ll most likely die within a night or two without her potions to keep them going.<br/><br/>After that, she had two of her stronger chosen go look for a new batch of children to pick from the streets. Telling them that Mama Caroline is willing to take in more children in her home and feed them some yummy drinks again now that she had room. She then locked the rest of the children in the cellar so they could sleep, deciding that she would just feed them in the morning when she didn’t feel so tired.<br/><br/>She lay on her couch, too tired to go to her bedroom upstairs. She looked out the window, looking at the night sky reminiscing five months ago. What fun it was! Planning and stalking her kills, making her entrance like The Man Who Walked in the Dusk himself, pizzazz and glamour and all.<br/><br/>Her last killing was… disappointing but at least she finished her bargain and got a playmate in return. The Knight Templar was such a fun person to taunt and make fun of. He seemed especially mad whenever he saw her little ‘gift’ from Father Frollo after she had killed the old man.<br/><br/>Caroline smirked as she caressed the clerical collar, her reminder of that wonderful day, that she always wore on her slender, pale neck. It was covered in splotches of dried blood, Father Frollo’s naturally, and new splotches of blood from her task earlier. She shivered, remembering the smelling of the deliciously burnt flesh.<br/><br/><em>If only the bastard screamed or begged for mercy like the others when I was slowly burning him to death</em>, she thought idly to herself as she lay on her couch and waited whether or not the man she had tasked to dump the body would come back.<em>He seemed calm for man getting roasted alive.</em>