Day 7: 11,008 Total: 80,156

Another remarkably good day, and putting me 10k higher than I was at this time last year. A number of key things happened in the story today. Things that I really don't want to blog and give away, so my snippet tonight is kind of an odd little piece.

I'm having a great time!


"You really shouldn't be here," Maro said. He dropped into a chair. "This damned building is cursed. I always knew it was, and even more so after he was murdered here."

And Nic felt... a connection. Something slithering along the edges of what had happened. He didn't know how it could have fit. Maro's father had died years ago. He remembered hearing the tale, but he leaned forward and looked at Maro now.

"Tell me what happened. How did he die?" Nic frowned a little and then considered the questions again. "Why was he killed? I had the feeling people here idolized him."

"Most of them did. Others feared him too much to go against him. I can't say anyone was really sorry to see him die, though. He scared them all." Maro stopped and stared at the wall for a moment before he continued. Nic could almost see the story forming in his mind. "I don't really know why they did it. I think it had to do with the money he had when he came here. I think he stole it from someone up north, and they finally found him. They killed him at the alter. How Beckett-like, isn't it? We probably should have named him a martyr."

"You saw him killed?" Nic said.

"No. We don't know how many there were, but some of them dragged him out through the back windows and threw him to the sharks. There had been another man here at the time -- they'd attacked him, too, but he lived long enough to tell us what happened. By the time we got out the back, there was only some bloody cloth left in the water, and a damned lot of sharks."

"Was it easier to get in and out back then?" Eli asked. "Did people see these men?"

"No, it was harder. They were still building the canal, and the area around the Pier stayed flooded all the time." Maro leaned back again. "I know. We wondered at the time, and for years afterwards. But that was twelve years ago."

"Boats," Eli said, reminding Nic of their other discussion. He had a hard time focusing still, like that sound played at the back of his mind still. He began to think it was just a symptom of his returning psi abilities. He did seem more attuned again, now that it passed. "We think that they may be using boats to get the bodies out of the Pier. Is it possible to do that without it being noticeable."

"At night, I suppose so," Maro said. "There used to be a lot of smuggling at the Pier, even before the quakes. I've heard tales that there were secret places -- but no one's ever found them. Besides, we're no longer a link to the mainland, and a place to store goods on the way into the city. It would be harder to get them off the Pier than to get them into it. And we sure don't have the money to support any serious black market."

"Drugs?" Eli asked.

"Some. But we mostly just carry them over from the city. I try to keep some hold on what gets passed around through here."

Something else occurred to Nic. And he still didn't know how it fit. "Your father hated music."

"Hated it with a passion that went beyond his love of God, I think. He said he heard the angels singing, and everything else was profanity."

"And that's why you made this into a music club," Eli said, looking around the room.

"Damn right. I did it the next morning, after we had cleaned the place out. I gave away all the church stuff, brought in all the musicians I knew on the Pier, and held a wonderful jam session that night."

"And that's when you stopped playing music of your own," Terry said. "You started working so hard at making sure everyone else had a place, you let your own dream go."

He shook his head, obviously not ready to talk about anything like that. Terry let it go.

"Did you and your father get along?" Nic said.

"As long as I played toady and as long as I didn't so much as hum. He would just go nuts. He once nearly beat a young woman to death because she sang while she cleaned the church."

"Your father had followers here on the Pier," Eli said. "Are any of them left?"

"A few, I think. Most of them keep to themselves. I've heard they hold services out at the northend," Maro said. "You think this is related to music, and they might be involved."

"Maybe," Eli said. "But right now I think we should pursue the only real clue we have."