London & Cora & Open
“It’s totally fucked up,” Cora agreed. “I mean, we live in a unique little bubble of freaky shit but this is especially twisted.” And that was maybe a strange place to draw the line, given the varied nature and dispositions of the assorted species who were a part of the circus, but this wasn’t just something one could write off as an accident. She’d heard the word murder being whispered and it left a cold dread in the pit of her stomach — for all her experience speaking to the dead, Cora had never actually seen a dead body up close before, and certainly not one who died so violently.
Rather than focus on the unsettling feeling, she craned her neck and rose up on her toes, trying to get a good view of the area around the tank. “I wonder if whoever it is is still around. I don’t see anything, but spirits don’t always take a physical shape,” she said absently. Maybe once the initial furor died down, she would go and find whoever was investigating this and see if they needed her help. If there was a spirit lingering in the wake of such a violent end, there was the chance she could communicate with them.