Wendell got up to answer the door with a tired groan. But before he could drag himself past the kitchen, the door violently swung open. Stepping inside was a tall looming figure, a slightly more slender and pale bear-like nonferal with well trimmed even fur. She had shoved the door open with an ornate walking cane. Her blazer jacket layered over a long and elaborate dark dress. All of her clothes were etched in thin lines of gold to express her prowess. Wrapped around both of her arms and across her back was the skin of a feral white fox with its eyes missing. Each claw and tooth is covered in a thin layer of golden leaf sheets. Hiding her own eyes was a black sun hat with a veil that reached her shoulders. Her lavender eyes and stoic gaze was unmistakable. She was the same face that loomed over the living room in a large oil painting by the fireplace. Most of the town was already aware of her. No one could avoid noticing her enter with such a bold and consistent first impression every time and I was no different. She was the head of the Barret family’s business; a living ode to strength and power.
As Wendell rounded the corner and entered the same room as her, he suddenly hid away any hints of a limp or lean. Her sheer stature made Wendell seem small in comparison. He greeted her with a quick bow, “Ms.Barret. I wasn’t expecting you this evening.”
Her gaze however turned sour. She sneered at him, “Oh please, I’m your mother. You will call me Blair. But why are you lounging away on my land with this mess?” She gestures to me, “I thought I bought you a lodge not a crack den.” Her voice was as authoritative as ever no matter the topic. Though since I was still working, I began setting out another tea cup for her in case she stayed long enough.
Wendell’s responses were different as well when met with her. Instead of anger he met her with formality and understanding, “I apologise. I hired him to help with cleaning and meals for the house’s other residents. Despite his looks he is the best in his field.”
The comment caught my ear for a moment, but it would have to take a lot more than one compliment to persuade me on someone so crude. Blair continued. Her voice always fluctuated on the more critical comments, “Never mind the snake. We have other matters to address. I’m sure you have already heard by now about your youngest and older brothers? The one with the funny hair and the other with a bit of quirky style? The childish one?”
Wendell shakes his head and seems a bit confused, “No I haven’t?”
Her voice didn’t change any. She stated it as if it was just another part of a trivial small talk she didn’t want to participate in, “Yes well they’re dead now. Someone killed them and I couldn’t be bothered to know who yet this early in the morning. It’s simply naive that they woke me up with a phone call this early. They were already dead. Wasn’t a thing I could help with that. Just a waste of my time I suppose.”
I paused what I was doing to look over at them. Wendell was just as stunned. He stared at her quietly until she resumed talking to break the silence, “Be ready in about uhm… let’s say thirty minutes? We will be going to that local orphanage to let you pick out new brothers.”
Wendell’s face slowly turned sickly as he nodded, “Yes mam.”
Blair started to turn to leave before adding on more sa;t tp the wound, “Oh, and try to pick someone less frail. That younger brother was a bit sickly looking for a while. See you over there then.” Just as quickly as she barged in she walked out without a care in the world for anyone else. The door closed behind her and Wendell was left standing in the entryway watching the door. Despite everything he’s done to this point, I somehow felt pity for him if only for a brief moment.
I spoke up, “Pardon but would you want the oranges in a bag then?”
He didn’t respond as I tilted my head some at him, “Maybe I should tell Blair you will be late?”
He suddenly snapped out of it from the comment, “No- Uhm. Just put them in the fridge. I’ll get it when I get back.” He promptly rushed over towards the coat rack by the door to grab a jacket.
I gave a nod as I started to put away the tea. Wendell quickly headed outside leaving me alone in the house for once. I had started to pour out the tea I had just made when I hesitated. Instead I poured some into one of the cups before dumping the rest. After cleaning up and setting the orange slices in the fridge, I opened the cabinet. I took out the blade and inspected it, debating what to do with it. Though was it from here I wondered. I glanced down at one of the drawers where we kept our knives. Sure enough laying on top of all the other knives and almost intentionally in plain sight was a destroyed kitchen knife handle. The hardwooden handle was split into pieces. Though due to kitchen knives having its metal blade run through the handle, there was the other half of the metal still stuck to the wood. But even the metal itself was shredded in an attempt to separate the blade from the handle.
I took it out along with any debris of splinters it left behind. But instead of throwing it all away, I went to my room with a cup of tea. My room was set up much like the others. Though I kept a small glass of water by my bed. I set my tea beside it while setting the destroyed knife and all of its pieces up on top of the wardrobe to be dealt with later.
For now I could relax as impossible as it seemed to do. Sitting down on the edge of my bed wasn’t comfortable but alien. My legs bending more than they would when walking always felt strange. Taking a sip of the tea however helped me clear my mind and think for a moment.
Curiosities struck me the most. Not knowing if Wendell was even aware of who put the knife in the floor boards, or even what exactly happened to his brothers. For all I know it could all be the same. In my mind it being the work of another barrette made complete sense. Only one as strong as them could manage to destroy a knife like that. Sheer strength to even take down such strong family members. Though there are always the rumors. A cryptid could be said to have such strength as well. I don’t usually patronize myself with thoughts of tall tales and myths. But it was an unexplored theory to me. I was unaware of what facts resided in all those stories. Perhaps some of them were true. Could something else really be the cause of this?
My tea was done. The empty cup sat by my water. With all of my duties for the day done until super this evening, I stood back up and headed out. I was in search of gathering all the possible facts and this time I knew where to go. Call it the curiosity of a cat getting the better of me.