Casket of Lights

Chapter 10 : Unlocked Puzzle

Rossé Lilybeth's POV

I remained silent as we drive at the hotel. We droved passed the appearance of a tunnel where I thought Beauty walked through to get Beast. Redhair shifted his gear and turned right as we walked at the desolated park. Tennis court, monkey bars, and the swings illuminated by the streetlight that made me smile.

There was nothing. Silence filled the air as the soft music engulfed the area. I watched the buses and cars,  with my peripheral vision as they drove faster than their average speed limit. I shut my eyes closed as I felt an intoxicating feeling that rose from my spine.

There was a feeling of being empty and at the same time, uncertain. I glanced at Redhair who was looking back and forth from my scrunched face and to the road. But sure enough, no one spoke, but like an epiphany, something dawns on me.

Out of the corner of my eye, the wind slapped my bare skin in an exhilarating way, filling me with much needed adrenaline as my hands stretched out up to my head on their own accord. “I’ll take it here.” I opened the lock of the car, flashing a smile. “Thank you for the ride. Adieu,” I said as I bid goodbye, tugging lose strands of hair behind my ear.

Head hanging low he said, “Adieu.” He raised his hand as the corner of his lips quirked up; hand extending a key. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My eyebrows creased, cheeks on fire. I nodded as I watched him drove away from my place. I looked a back and saw a ten building hotel, displaying a bright light and its monochrome color in its entrance. As I walked into the floor, my eyes were once again flooded with new ideas as I gazed towards its interior, making me go back to 90’s with its unique blend of minimalism and ancient retro look.

“Where can I find room 65?” I asked at the reception desk.

A girl with a full smile approached me and said, “It’s on the second floor. Have a good day!”

I mouthed thanks before I proceed taking their stairs. My eyes landed at the wall and their designs as it consists of crisp, simple lines, with subtle silhouettes and hues of blues and green. Vegas were looking good as ever. The designs were a break-free from traditional design to modern era.

“Sixty.” I blew a sigh after counting the room numbers. “Sixty-three…Sixty-six?” A line formed at my lips, contemplating if I had just forgot to count for a while or if they had an automatic room number changer. “Where’s sixty-five?” I mumbled.

“Actually, it’s that way.” It came as a stuttered whisper, if not for the quiet environment, I am sure I would not have heard her. Her blush deepened ay my confused state and her eyebrows creased in embarrassment.

I looked at her and gave a smile. I have not seen her there. “Oh, thanks.”

She adjusted her round glasses that seemed to magnify her hazelnut eyes and her lips that kept twitching as if she wanted to ask me something but was not sure how. “No problem,” in his squeaky and childlike voice, she said.

After I unlocked the door, I instantly scanned the surroundings. The design of the room adopted by mid-century modern interior that included a simple fabrication of blue and green tone and a natural-shaped furniture like an egg-shaped. The transition of the design simply flawless.

I instantly moved at the different parts of the room and glanced for any recording camera’s and sound around the area. After I have found nothing, I removed my boots and slammed my body at the white sofa in front of me.

After minutes of thinking nothing, I moved towards the nearest closet and surprised that it has a different size of underwear, shirts, and shorts. I grabbed a simple white oversized tee, a short, and underwear and went to the shower.

As the water ran down at my hair, I began to wonder. Was this process significant yet the designation was sure, but the method was too complex to understand. What if I did all the things, they wanted me to do, what would really be the consequences on my part?

After finishing, I walked at the mirror and began drying my hair. Time flew fast. Most of my time were seemingly lost at my thoughts. Could I also defy my fate and stand against everything, despite the fuzzy sight beyond my windowpane? Or am I just existing to fall into a crumbled state to the point that I had to repeat and repeal my cycles.

I decided to slam my body against the soft white, king sized bed in front of me. But not long, a bang on my room door jolted me awake, a slight headache adding to my already grumbled state. The intruder with a tower hair like went to open the black blinds, radiant sunshine immediately attacked my eyes until I felt they were burning their way into my skull.

“We’re going to attend a funeral,” Stan said, voice higher than usual.

I blew a sigh. “Stan, close the blinds,” I murmured, closing my eyes once again. It took me several minutes before I could process the thought that made me quickly opened my eyes. “What? Here in Vegas?” My eyes were still adjusting to the change in change brightness, so I gave him a disgruntled groan that obviously did not satisfy him.  

He leant on my room door; arms crossed flexing his muscles while sending death glares in my direction. “Churchill’s funeral.”

“Why do we need to attend?” I asked, changing my position to face him. Right eye was opened while the other one was closed. “I literally just kill him.” I paused for a while, trying to process the thought. “And you want me to show up there?” I added.

His smile faded at his face, and said, “If you can’t, don’t force yourself.” He placed a bag of grocery and a backpack at the nearest table and faced me. “There was an encrypted plan at ya’ cabinet.”

“Right.” Nodding, I closed my eyes and tried to drift back to sleep. “Copy that,” I uttered.  

He chuckled for a while. “Rest well,” he said before closing the door. “Don’t force ya’ self too much,” he added.

Even though my eyes were still closed, my lips turned up. “I know.”

The next day, I settled into a comfortable routine as I began waking up around 6:40 at the morning, staying in bed for another five as the radio was playing a soft orchestra music. I looked outside and watched the street before sitting down to my meal. There was nothing unusual to see. There were still a few flakes drifting lazily from the sky as the cold breeze blew right through them.

I adjusted the speed of my breakfast as the crew delivered the food late. The news anchor blazed through several headlines. But there was only one headline that caught my attention. It was the conference of Mr. Kim together with the police. I switched off the television, trying to recall the things that happened yesterday.

Redhair greeted me with a smile as he was wearing a black suit and a loosed tie. His hair was slightly wet as his biceps were visible in his suit. A small talk was exchanged and long lectures from him filled my lungs until I could breathe no more.

I had to agree that his words were warm and wet in my ear that always sent shivers down to my spin. But to me, they were utterly meaningless to the point that I could not see myself from where to begin to take them seriously. It was still in a complete blur that it made me creased my brows from time to time.

As I walked into the neglected cemetery, ahead of Redhair, the mixed smell of moss as well as decayed leaves lingered through my nose down to my throat. I glanced at my surroundings, tumbled and broken tombstones, overgrown trees, and tree roots were knocking at some tombstones. But as I walked through, crumbling old chapel, turned into a freshly- mown grass and flowers and the floor of moss turned into a painted marble tiles with gray colors.

“Am I late?” I tugged in my black jacket as the cold wind blew bitterly, to the point that it gave chills to my marrow. Overhead was dark clouds blotted out the sun’s ray, casting a shadow veil.

Stan with his swaying tower asked, “Thought y’all not going to attend?”

I chuckled before I faced him. “Well, here I am.” I winked at him, making him scrunched his face.

A man with a bright black colored eye walked in front of me as he raised his arm. “Excuse me, Sir!”

“What are you doing here, man?” Stan stepped back; eyebrows snapped in a line. “This is Noah , our agent,” Stan said, introducing the man in front of me.

I gazed at Noah looking more intimidating. He wore a short sleeved black t shirt that displayed the black ink running down into his arms. His eyes were mixture of blue and brown but did not stop them from being hard and cold to the point that I got chills just from staring too long.

“Gotta need a smoke,” Noah said, winking at my direction.

I glanced at Stan whose face ran out of colors. “Not in front of my 800-dollar boots. Go somewhere,” Stan uttered, giving a dismissive hand.

“Nice meeting you, Rosse,” Noah said, checking me out smoothly, smirk never leaving his lips.

“I can kill an army if you can’t stop hitting on me,” I threatened lowly. It sounded stupid coming out of my mouth but at least he got the message, backing up slightly.

My eyes landed on Stan who was facing Noah. “I own a badge. Don’t give me an attitude, not on my watch.” Stan drew his lower lip between his teeth.

Fear crossed Noah’s face and started walking away from us, lighting his cigarette on his left hand.

I looked away and started thinking about yesterday. Though I could remember fragments of what had happened, all ideas, images, sounds were seemed to be disconnected like I am inside of a television in a monochromatic shade. All the thoughts were dancing like the small atoms in a quantum mechanics timeline, it danced through my mind. 

“Look Stan, I am very matured person. I always apologized when I am wrong.” I raised my chin held high, smiling wide and big.

Stan pursed his lips and said, “Never heard ya’ apologized before.”

My eyebrows rose as the corner of my eyes caught Redhair walking towards us. “I am never wrong,” I replied.  

Stan chocked at his own saliva and started coughing, making me roll my eyes. “How’s the case, Detective?”

“I am still working on that,” Redhair nodded, scrolling through his phone while swirling his cup of chocolate on his left hand. “But it was weird.”

“Weird, why?” Stan asked, scanning his eyes at the surroundings, rested a hand in his hip.  

“File look like it has been redacted,” Redhair replied.

I turned my face away as I turned quiet, listening to their conversation. I could still hear voices around me, Redhair stares but I remained to avert my eyes. I had known at Redhair’s eyes spoke wonders as always, like there were a lot of hidden messages encrypted inside his head to the extend that I could not read all of them.

Stan massaged the back of his neck and said, “Let me see what I can do.” Stan turned his back as he proceeded walking to the van with his crew.

“I am going to catch up with someone.” I undid my ponytail and shook at my hair. “Gotta go,” I said as patted Redhair’s back. Redhair faced me, pinching the bridge of his nose, ears turning red.

“Are you jealous or something?” I kept a straight face for two or more seconds, before reeling in laughter. “His name is Alex,” I uttered, making him chuckle in his place.

“Wait, what? I mean you want a chaperone?”

I adjusted my speaker on my jacket as I turned my back at them. “It’s just a kid.”

“His army’s sniffling around,” Redhair added.  

I stretched and continued walking away from him. “I know, I’ll be careful,” I said, turning on the microchip and the speaker.

I heard a faint feedback on the other line and Redhair’s additional comment, “Damon has an eye on you. Don’t get cute.”

“I am not falling for it,” I said as I heard the different laughs from the other line, including Stan’s laughing machine. “Do not worry, I got this,” I said, flashing a smile at him as I waved my hand.  

As I move further into the cemetery, the grayish white head stones dotted the landscape. My eyes landed at the group of friends were wails and their soft cries rang into my ear. Amongst the trees’, the wind whispered, blowing soft wind against my skin.

“Do you copy?” I heard a voice asked. I gazed at the group of people at my twelve o’clock. Men and women in their black suit arrived at the funeral location earlier than the expected time. The atmosphere looked gloomy to the point that everyone has no smiles plastered in their faces.

“Have you seen the area?” Stan asked probably for the camera attached at my middle collar. “Stay focus, drop shoot.”

“Alpha, I am in,” I said as I walked towards the group of people, still locking my eyes at the group of Damon. I squinted my gaze at the group of Damon who wore a flower at the right side of their suit. No one dared to speak but only the priests with his words. “T-5 minutes.”

Redhair coughed and said, “Standby.” I looked at Redhair who was busy playing with the withered tree at his side along with Stan who was busy keeping his hair tall and thin.

“He was walking, I am going in,” I said, looking at Damon whose face was clouded with pain. As the crowd started to increase, the seats became more crowded. Moreover, I scrunched my face when I noticed that the chairs were unusual, it was a bloodstained red.

“Teams moving in position,” Stan instructed his team as I sat at the bench not far away from them .

The air was a little too stuffy, for the reason, he was popular among his leagues and his group. Not that long, I could hear their chattering and little noises as they open the casket slowly. On each side of the casket sat two large candles, all white as well as the roses thrown inside.

“His bodyguard was taking Clinfort,” Noah’s stern voice echoed into my ears. “Almost there,” he added.

“Hawk blue, report,” Stan asked.

I remained quiet for a couple minutes. “I really don’t know what to report,” I said. My eyes landed at Alex who was placing his popcorn at Churchill’s casket, crying loudly as his teddy bear was being taken away from him.

I drew a long breath before I asked, “Redhair, how’s the cat?”

I was caught off guard when I saw Clinfort with his injured chest as he was being assisted by his bodyguard. I could see the dark circles around his eyes as well as his bloodshot eyes now’s drowning in his own tears.

“Eaten by my dog.” My eyes widened in shock, not believing him for a second.

Would they also know the real culprit behind Churchill’s case? What would they feel if they knew that I was behind his tragic incident? “That so mean!”

“At my mother’s house,” Redhair  mumbled.

I nodded even though he could not see me. I averted my gaze at  the casket that was now closed, and pallbearers carried it on their shoulder to the hearse. His friends and family followed. Clinfort reluctantly joined them.

“Okay.” I looked away for a brief of moment, as the casket being lowered into the ground. I could still hear their mourns as well as their long breaths. Pain was evident into their eyes as well as their tears. Shame, that it would turn into like this. “I’ll turn this off for a while, I am having feedbacks.”

“Careful,” Stan reminded me while the signals were slowly jamming at the other line.

I looked heavenward and said, “I will.” I was about to take a step when my arms brushed against Damon who was busy texting. “Oh, hey!” I whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Damon asked as line appeared between his brows. His own tie hanged loosely around his neck; the first two buttons of his shirt popped open to show some of his toned skin.

Licking my lips in anticipation, I got up and headed straight at his direction, ignoring his furious looks. “I was just passing by.” I looked at him straight at his eyes, showing no hint of emotion and said, “It was not your business anymore.”

“Was it?” His British accent was tranquilizing yet deadly for the fact that his eyes were burning with rage and curiosity.

I resisted the urge to punch him, sighing out my frustration as I explained, “I happened to cross paths with you.” Eyes squinting at him, I jammed my hands in my front pockets.

“Are you guys alright?” A deep voice resonated as a silhouette of a man stood in front of me, blocking the view of Damon.

I looked up and saw Clinfort with his cast. He was wearing a plain black suit, his messy brown curls looked as though he ran his hands through them. His confidence stance and intimidating ambiance matched his structure well. “Clinfort. I thought you’re still at the hospital.”

Clinfort shook his head slightly and replied, “I won’t miss to attend this ceremony.” He paused for a while, taking a long sharp breath. “He was my only family I have left. I’ll excuse myself for a while.”

“Francine!” Damon yelled, hands waiving behind my back.

She patted my back, slowly, yet made me froze at my spot. “Long time no see, Rosse.” Her soprano voice made me almost jumped from my place.

I glanced at my back that made my mouth set in a hard line. 

“Where’s Morgan?” Damon asked, lips drew in a snarl.

“He’s on his way.” Francine’s full pink lips turned upwards into a hesitant smile as she turned up her brows in confusion. “So, what did the rat bring here?” She questioned at my incomprehensive question and she inspected me as though looking for something. Then, she reached for her phone.

“Francine, your manners, please,” Damon stated bluntly, adding no emotion of regret or sadness to his tone. “Respect, Churchill.”

My question got held up in my throat. Yet I listened, no response. I had to listen to her tales, to Damon's opinion and even to the rhythm in the fabric of universe to fully decrypt my essence and their sin whether they were really true or just a false claim that had to be proven. 

Totally ignoring Damon, Francine spoke up, raising her left brow and said, “You know what, I should probably go.” She looked at me for a brief of moment and said, pointing a finger towards me, “away from her.”

Alex with his cute bunny smile questioned back, looking too clueless. “Aunt, Francie! Where’s my gift?”

Francine’s face changed into a soft barbie feature as she faced Red. “Sorry sweetheart, I totally forgot.”

Alex just nodded and ran into his father’s arms, hugging Damon’s neck using his right hand.

“Is everything okay here?” Clinfort walked at the area, looking more tired and confused.

“Yeah,” Damon paused, watching me carefully trying to decipher my reaction, then he spoke his next words slowly, “Just a little chitchat, am I right, mate?”

There was a long paused before I spoke. “Yeah, he’s right. Nice to meet you too, Damon.”

“What is she doing here?” A deep voice asked behind me. As I turned my back, my eyes locked with his eyes and any remark a lump formed into my throat, could not find any words to say. Morgan eyes me skeptically, taking in ever aspect of my casually messy appearance.

“I have seen you before.” His eyes never left mine as he spoke, inspecting every inch of me until his rosy lips upturned to a smirk. “You have not told us that you’re fond of playing in a casino, aren’t you?”

I could smell the intoxicating fragrance from his cologne igniting my nose buds, identifying the scent of spicy cumin and earthly cedarwood. My heart rate speed up slightly as he rose his right eyebrow in a challenging way. “You don’t have to know, right?” I laughed as I threw a look at him.

“Let’s go, hon.” Francine walked into the scene as she gave a death glare, placing her arm in his fiancé’s arm in an escort position.

People started to disperse when a shinning paper caught my eyes. It was at the cold marble tile where Clinfort stood. My brows creased as I instantly got glued at my spot. As if on cue, the inky blackness covered the whole area. Lighting flashed at the distance as I picked up the photo that made my hands tremble. “Why is my picture right here?”

I remained still, staring into the never lasting darkness. My sapphire blue eyes caught a slight glimpse of Redhair behind the leafless trees, flashing a faint smile as his hair were flowing along the whistling wind.  

I sunk back into silence and took a long exhale. If I am in danger, there was oddly no sense of urgency nor fear that I could feel. I have no knowledge of what I am struggling against nor any concept of consequences, yet I could not foresee and seem to comprehend why Clinfort had a picture of me when I was still a child.