LOCATION: the now-derelict Echo WITH: @miriamashford
She’d left him a riddle, back at the Butcher’s Arms.
“At end of the rope, the Hangman waits till dawn.”
It should have been an obvious place to look from the start, when he thought about it – Echo, the club she’d been playing back before he turned her. It had shut down, from the looks of it, the old neon sign nowhere to be seen, its entrances boarded up.
From the looks of it, though, someone had broken in before him – the wire-fence gate in the back-alley was already open, no board covering up the back entrance.
Inside, her old haunt was quiet, a ghost of its former glory. It had been vibrant, once, though that was hard to believe, looking at it now. Old posters lined the walls, their dates long-since passed, years back. He made certain his steps were quiet rather than silent as he headed for what had been the club proper – and what greeted him was the now-abandoned maze of mirrors; never-ending reflections looking back at him as he walked through it to get to the dance floor, where more mirrors lined the walls.
His mirror-selves were the only thing greeting him, and then–
“Miriam.”
