...I think I'm starting to pay the price for only working on this novel <2 hours before bedtime (i.e. when I'm tired and/or half asleep). Everything is just so...rough. ^^; I'm passing the checkpoints and telling the events, but very little of it is really hitting me where it counts, y'know?
So, I'm gonna take another leap of faith and ask for critique on this forum again. ( ̄▽ ̄)~*
First, lemme set you up: it's pretty obvious, but the main character here has just been unexpectedly captured. She is normally a very powerful being with psychic abilities, which have been taken away from her by the sound of a mysterious music box (more on that later).
Before this, she and her partner (more on him later) were conducting a bank robbery that was going pretty well until this happened. ^^; This chapter is meant to reveal that they were set up: the owners not only knew they were going to rob the bank ahead of time, they also took the opportunity to trap MC and deliver her to the main antagonist (more on him later).
The idea is that this antagonist masterminded the whole thing, telling the bank owners what was going to happen and offering to give them something valuable in return for setting up the trap and bringing him his prize...which I don't think I conveyed very well. ^^; But that's okay, logic is easy to fix; what I'm worried about right now is just the quality of the writing itself.
So now, without further ado:
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Lenore awakened with a start.
Her vision was still blurred and distorted, but she decided that she was definitely in a different, smaller room. A small light source in the left corner filled it with a warm orange glow.
She felt her arms bound to the chair she was sitting in...but more concerning than that was the fact that she could not move whatever was binding them. She concentrated as hard as she could in her weakened state, but felt no change, no motion of any kind.
“...My powers,” she thought. “I’ve lost them...along with...with…”
She was certain that something else was missing, but couldn’t figure out what it was...in any case, she felt much too tired and dazed to think properly. So she sat in the chair, trying to push physically against her restraints, while panic slowly filled her mind.
All of a sudden, a door that she wasn’t aware of opened somewhere in the room. Heeled footsteps made their way towards her, and she froze.
“...Are you awake now?” said a lady’s voice. “You’d better be conscious enough to answer some questions.”
Lenore raised her head slightly. Despite her blurred vision, she could make out the lady’s familiar spotted fur, and the dark suit with the lace collar.
Oates stopped before her and grabbed her face, holding it firmly in one hand. “I want to know where my money is,” she said. “Now.”
“...I...don’t understand,” Lenore whispered.
“Don’t play dumb with me…!” Oates barked, stamping her foot. “If you don’t cooperate...I’m afraid something tragic might happen to this.”
With her other hand, she pulled something out from behind her back. Something that looked vaguely like an old, weather-beaten human skull.
It was as if Lenore’s vision cleared up all at once. Suddenly, she realized what else she had lost...and she found herself too terrified to even speak.
Oates noticed her distress, and smiled. “That raven gentleman was right...you’d do anything to keep this safe, wouldn’t you?” she purred. “I would have taken your whole skeleton hostage, but this piece was the easiest to reach...and besides, I’ll bet it’s the most valuable. Am I wrong…?”
“...Please...I don’t know what happened to your money,” Lenore croaked. “I didn’t take any of it; just search my pockets and you’ll see that I’m telling the truth…!”
“What about Simon Thursday?? What did he take, and where did he take it?! He must have told you where he was planning to hide…!”
Lenore started to speak, but fell silent. She honestly didn’t know where Simon would have gone with his ‘earnings’; not for sure.
She surmised that he might have gone back to the impound lot, as he suggested before...but she didn’t want to tell the woman that. So far it seemed that Simon had been able to escape successfully, and she didn’t want that to change...and if it did change, she certainly didn’t want to be the reason why.
“...You don’t seriously intend to protect that street urchin, do you??” Oates sneered. “After he ran off and abandoned you the very second you were caught...? He used you, my dear; the only reason he kept company with you was to profit off of your abilities. And now that he has what he wants, he has no use for you...he doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He never did.”
She tossed the skull lightly into the air and caught it, then tossed it up again. “Now,” she went on, “I suggest you start thinking about your own interests...before you find them smashed to bits on the floor.”
Lenore’s body felt very warm. She tried to use her powers again, to will her mother’s skull away from Oates’ claws and back to herself, back to its rightful place within the shadows of her face.
And eventually, something did happen...but not to the skull. Instead, the room itself began to shake.
The lantern in the corner wobbled, then toppled over and broke, plunging the little room into darkness. Oates stopped tossing the skull and slowly backed away from her captive, as the tremors increased in intensity.
Lenore’s chair began to rattle against the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice. She simply kept her false eyes squeezed shut, concentrating, wishing desperately for the strength to take back one of the most precious things she owned.
“...You’ve upset her, haven’t you?” said a new voice. Oates turned to the doorway to look.
A man walked in-- a tall man, with sleek black fur and silver-rimmed glasses, who wore a dark suit and a silk tie.
He pulled an ornate wooden box out of his jacket and sighed. “You know you shouldn’t provoke her...especially not without this at hand,” he continued. “Do you think the raven would be willing to pay so much for her if she weren’t dangerous...?”
Slowly, the tremors subsided. The two cats looked down at their hostage, who now sat sobbing quietly to herself.
Oates straightened her collar. “...I just wanted to find out where that thief went with our money,” she muttered.
“I think the property we’re about to receive will more than make up for the loss…you don’t need to fret over every nickel and dime—”
“Don’t tell me how to run my business, Mewsley. You’d do well to remember who the senior partner is in this arrangement…!”
Mewsley rolled his eyes. “Just leave the boy to the authorities,” he said. “It’s 4 o’clock now...we need to be at the meeting place before sunrise if we want to make the trade tonight.”
“...Alright, I’ll pull the car around. Put her to sleep again, and we’ll go.”
Oates glared at Lenore one last time, then left the room, taking the skull with her. Mewsley opened the box he was holding, and the charming, crippling melody began to play again.
Lenore winced, but remained motionless. In all her millions of years of life, she had never been in such a hopeless situation before, and in truth the despair weighed heavier on her heart than the pain.
“...I don’t know what to do now,” she thought, as her field of vision faded once more. “Many times I haven’t known what to do, but it was never frightening before...it never felt so necessary...before…”
The next time she woke up, Lenore found herself lying in the street. Cold rain poured all around her, soaking through her clothes and splashing her face as the drops hit the ground.
Mewsley and Oates stood close by, holding matching umbrellas. They both stared straight ahead, watching something in the distance.
Weakly, she turned to where they were looking...and saw the dark silhouette of a man, wearing an overcoat and a large top hat.
The gentleman approached slowly, strolling almost cheerfully in the rain. As he neared the group, a familiar-looking smile spread over his beaked face, a smile so brilliantly white it practically glowed in the dark.
“...HORACE MEWSLEY, AND ANNABELLE OATES,” he began. “THANK YOU FOR PLAYING ANTAGONISTS IN THIS MESMERIZING TALE. AS PROMISED, YOU WILL BE HANDSOMELY REWARDED~.”
“...Before we hand over this creature, we would like to see the deed,” said Oates. “And be forewarned: my partner is very skilled in detecting forgery.”
“WE ASSURE YOU, OUR MASTER HAS NO NEED FOR FORGERY,” the gentleman replied, removing a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. “BUT YOU NEEDN’T TAKE OUR WORD FOR IT— PLEASE, INSPECT THE DEED FOR YOURSELF.”
Oates rushed forward to snatch the deed before it got wet in the rain. She unfolded it and looked it over...then handed it to Mewsley, who did the same.
He furrowed his brows in disbelief. “...How did you obtain this??” he asked.
“IT WAS NOT STOLEN, IF THAT’S WHAT WORRIES YOU,” said the gentleman. “ITS ORIGINAL OWNER SIMPLY DECIDED TO...GIVE IT AWAY.”
“Really? After twenty-two years of fierce competition, he ‘simply decided’ to give us his land?? The Parkinson I know would go to his death before he even considered selling it to us…”
“HE DID NOT GO TO HIS DEATH...BUT PERHAPS HE WENT SOMEWHERE CLOSE BY.” The gentleman grinned wider. “IN ANY CASE, HE HAS DECIDED THAT THE MINES ARE NOW YOURS. ALTHOUGH WE FEEL WE MUST WARN YOU, HIS OWN BUSINESS PARTNERS MAY NOT AGREE WITH THIS DECISION—”
“So let them sue us,” said Oates. “Our hands are clean; they won’t have a leg to stand on...and before long, they’ll be desperate enough to lease it back from us. That might actually be the best-case-scenario, since they would have to cover the operating costs...I’ll have to talk to the lawyers in the morning…”
Oates wandered back to their car, still muttering to herself. Mewsley took one last look at the at the deed, then folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. “...It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” he said. “Will you be needing your music box?”
“NO, THANK YOU...PLEASE CONSIDER IT A GIFT. YOU MAY NEED IT AGAIN SOMEDAY~.”
Mewsley nodded, and left to join his partner...leaving Lenore and the raven alone in the dark, damp streets.