The Truth Will Always Sting
Though being caught on the streets so late at night would ruin Berdette's reputation, it was the last thing on her mind. She moved both under the cloak of darkness and a literal cloak, the latter being made of dark brown cotton. It was voluminous enough both to hide the plain dress she was wearing beneath and her face. Tonight she was to check up on a recent buyer of love elixir, a certain aging woman who feared her husband's roving eye.
She couldn't help but relish the thought of what exactly the effects would be. Love would definitely be born in the man's heart but so would a little seed of jealousy. It would grow into niggling feelings of doubt on his wife's faithfulness, blossom as controlling rage, and finally culminate with her death and, probably his own. If he couldn't have her, nobody could.
Clack clack clack went her boots as they struck the cobbled streets hard. So when she turned down a back-alley and there was a definite squish, Berdette had to pause. The overhang of her hood did nothing to improve her vision, so she flipped it back and cautiously leaned over for a better look.
Not wanting to sully her gloves, she used the tip of her boot to ease off the fabric hiding his skull. At the gruesome sight she was for a moment flabbergasted. Part of his skull loped off, and with such precision! She had seen many a gruesome thing in her day, but this was most peculiar. It was not something she had never seen before, in fact, quite the opposite! The careful selection mirrored her own work.
Glancing about briefly to make sure nobody saw her, Berdette continued on her way. The body was no longer relevant to the questions she had. Who had done it? Where? What the purpose? and the ever hopeful Are there others like me in this wretched city?. She grumbled internally for a moment, realizing that she had few connections that would get her anymore information on the topic. Cult slayings would hardly be the topic of choice at tea, at least not more than " Oh, bless his soul! What a horrid occurance. ". Hmmmm. She definitely needed to expand her ( non-existant ) circle of like-minds. Hopefully to people of equal or greater intelligence? Hopefully with something she would find beneficial.
Berdette put on her most placid smile as she rapped on the backdoor of the Benson residence. The maid who answered gave a silent nod and let Berdette inside. She moved swiftly to the sewing room where Mrs. Benson was waiting. It was a perfect night for the visit as Mr. Benson was at his regularly scheduled poker game, drinking and gambling away any worries he might of had. In a polite gesture she stripped off her gloves and pocketed them, taking Mrs. Benson's hand in her own and patting it.