Bobby the Butcher's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

Bobby drove back to the shop with the photos still on his phone. If Desmond had marked the wedding site, he might have marked other places too. Bobby needed to check his own ground before he did anything else. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, letting the bell settle behind him. The shop was quiet. Bobby walked the counter first, then the display case, then the cutting block his grandfather had used. Nothing looked wrong. He moved to the back and started opening drawers. He pulled out the workbench tray and checked underneath. He lifted the corner of the floor mat. He climbed onto a stool and ran his hand along the top of the walk-in cooler. His fingers hit something small and cold. Bobby pulled it down. A blue glass marble, the same faint blue as the sphere in the clearing, the same blue as Desmond's ring. It pulsed once in his palm and went dim. Bobby's throat closed. The marble had been sitting above his cooler for who knew how long. Desmond had been inside this shop. He had claimed it before Bobby ever inherited the knife. Bobby carried the marble to the front counter and set it next to the knife. The knife stayed dark. The marble stayed dim, but it was still there, still present, a small piece of Desmond planted in the walls his grandfather built. Bobby's hands shook. Every month his father had lost money. Every year the shop had struggled. It wasn't only Jessica's spells. Desmond had been draining this place from the inside the whole time. The bell rang. Jessica stepped through the door. She stopped when she saw the marble on the counter. "Put it back," she said. "You knew this was here." "I said put it back." Bobby closed his fist around the marble. "How long?" Jessica's mouth tightened. "Longer than you've been alive." "Grandfather?" "He never found it. That's all you need to know." Bobby stared at her. She wasn't warning him as an enemy. She was warning him as someone who already knew what happened to people who pulled Desmond's markers out of the ground. Bobby set the marble down but kept his hand over it. "I'm not putting it back." "Then he'll know." Jessica's voice was flat. "The second you move it, he'll know. And he won't come here. He'll go somewhere else you care about. End of discussion." She turned and left. The bell rang again behind her. Bobby looked at the marble under his palm. He couldn't leave it. He couldn't lift it without Desmond feeling the pull. Bobby wrapped the marble in a cloth and slid it into his apron pocket. The shop had never been his alone. It had been split ground since before he was born. He had his answer, and it was worse than not knowing. Now he had to decide who Desmond would strike next.